


Torn On The Platform

by Conscious_ramblings



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Fluff, I'm gonna have to tag this as i write it because i'm doing daily updates, M/M, Pining, side Ziam, so please keep an eye on the tags, tube au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:32:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 27,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5329253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Conscious_ramblings/pseuds/Conscious_ramblings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on Clara's lovely prompt:</p><p> </p><p>  <em>AU where harry and louis are strangers but they always get the same train to work in the morning and one day harry falls asleep on louis’ shoulder. louis wants to be annoyed because harry just broke a least seven rules of tube conduct but he looks so soft and peaceful that he just lets him sleep and wakes him ever so carefully when it’s his stop. it happens again and again until it becomes a regular thing where louis will let harry snooze and then gently nudge him awake, hand him the cup of coffee he took from him so it wouldn’t slip and spill everywhere and send him off with a “have fun at work, love” and after the tenth time harry isn’t even embarrassed anymore. </em></p><p> </p><p>  <em>Cue changing work schedules, missing each other for the first time in weeks, panicking because “i don’t even know his name, why didn’t i ask for his name”, dramatic waiting on platforms and finally bumping into each other again when they least expect it</em></p><p> </p><p>Disclaimer: it might not follow the prompt 100% all the time</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will be updating daily during advent, with the last update being Christmas Day.
> 
> It is NOT christmas themed, not even set in December, but it seemed a fun way of updating daily
> 
> Updates will all be longer than 500 words but might only be 500 words
> 
> I hope you all enjoy it!
> 
> Title is from a Jack Penate song which I will now have in my head for the rest of the month.

There were a few people Louis always recognised on the tube. Every morning he got on the 8.04 victoria line from Walthamstow. Front carriage. It was the first stop on the line so he always got a seat. There was the tall man with the beer gut and receding hairline who squeezed his way into a double breasted suit that’s poor buttons needed to be freed from their daily oppression. There was the woman with the red hair who furiously attacked her phone at every station, looking for even the slightest wiff of wifi. There was the guy who barged on at Tottenham Hale every morning, huffing and puffing that there were no seats left. There was the pretty dark haired girl who carried a plastic bag containing sky high heels while she wore adidas runners that made Louis smile. She settled in every morning to do her make up, a feat that amazed Louis each time he watched her successfully not jab herself with eyeliner when the train jolted and moved.

The one he really noticed though, the one he definitely looked for every morning even if he told himself he didn’t, was the sleepy curly haired man who got on at Blackhorse Road. He always clutched a crap coffee from the small cafe in the station, and sometimes a croissant. The number of times he had mournfully eyed up Louis’ coffee from Eat 17, that he would grab on his walk to the station, was quite pitiful. He always looked shattered, yawing heavily as he either slumped in a seat or swung against a pole, but despite that he radiated something. Some sort of aura that might 100% actually be his ridiculous mop of long curls, but which Louis felt was probably something more.

Curly sleepy man had been getting the same tube as Louis for a few months now. Possibly it had been longer but Louis had been noticing him, actively looking for him, for a few months. It was when he caught himself singing that god awful James Blunt song about watching someone beautiful on the tube, that he realised he needed to snap out of it and do something or start getting a different train. Which was why Liam knew about the whole situation, because Louis’ solution to becoming a James Blunt singing stalker of curly men on tubes had been to get drunk with his best friend and pour his heart out.

Now he was sat on the tube drumming his fingers as they pulled into Blackhorse Road, hoping to any higher powers that he could enact The Plan. The Plan (it had to have capital letters, Liam sometimes added a tm emoji when they talked via text too) was as simple and as terrifying as talking to curly haired sleepy boy, maybe even offering his seat if there were none. Talking on the tube was obviously a huge no-no, and so Louis was going to have to manufacture _something_ to make it happen. Sacrificing his seat for once seemed like a small price to pay.

The train pulled to a stop and as the doors open Louis craned his head for a glimpse of curls and full lips and tired green eyes. There at the back of the crowd surging on, was the man who consumed Louis’ thoughts. He had headphones on today, bopping his head slightly to the beat of whatever he was listening to. That made The Plan slightly harder to implement but Louis was flexible, he could work with this.

What he couldn’t work with was curly getting a seat at the other end of the carriage. That was a huge spanner in the works. Pulling out his phone he drafted a message to Liam, ready to send as soon as they pulled into the next station and got wifi signal.

**He’s sat at the other end. don’t know what to do? Help????**

_Go talk to him?_

**Fuck off, pal. I’m not doing that on the tube. WTF?**

_Look, if you aren’t gonna take the risk i dunno what to suggest_

**Fat lot of help you are.**

He clicked the home button, screen darkening. Liam was right, obviously, but that didn’t exactly help Louis right now. If he was going to strike up a conversation unprompted, on the tube, he would be needing some time to work up to the idea, and possibly a shot of something much stronger than the americano he was currently sipping.

Instead, he contented himself with watching the sleepy man down the carriage. He seemed to be struggling to stay awake as he chugged back coffee and continued to bop along lethargically to his music. His eyes were hooded with sleep in a way that made Louis want to study him first thing in the morning as soft light filtered through his bedroom window. His face was a contradiction, all sharp angles and soft curves combined together to make something stunningly beautiful. At the edges of his clothes Louis could just glimpse tattoos that seemed to litter his body. He’d never really been into tattoos, but he wanted to trace the lines of every millimetre of dark ink with his tongue.

Louis was jolted out of his daydreams by the person hanging onto the rail in front of his seat almost falling into his lap as the train jolted to a halt. It gave him a possible idea as to how to initiate conversation with the soft sleepy man in the corner, but when he looked up again the boy was gone.

Settling back into his seat Louis rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, trying to push away the images and visions of the man that haunted him. Tomorrow was another day, tomorrow he would instigate The Plan. For now, work.


	2. Day 2

The tube was busier than normal, all but a few seats filling up as soon as Louis got on. Looking around he decided to break a major tube rule in favour of making The Plan happen, and placed his bag on the seat beside him, hoping that he could surreptitiously engineer things so the sleepy curly haired man had to sit beside him.

His knee bounced as they arrived at Blackhorse Lane, hoping that no one else asked for the seat before he could offer it to the person he so desperately wanted to sit beside him. The platform wasn’t too busy, he might be in luck. As the doors opened he craned his neck to spot the luscious curls that he wanted to rake his hands through so badly, but he couldn’t see them anywhere. His heart fell, where was the sleepy curly haired man? Had he slept in? Had he changed trains? Changed jobs? Just as Louis was starting to catasrophise everything, a figure loomed over him.

“‘Scuse me mate, could you move your bag?” He looked up. Green eyes, soft pink bitten lips, slightly flushed cheeks, Louis froze, mouth slightly open.

The guy squinted at him quizzically, Louis still unable to move as he took in the vision he really hadn’t been expecting. Curls must have snuck on the tube through a different door when Louis had his guard down. After a few beats the man sighed, mistaking Louis’ shock for rudeness and scowling at him slightly as he picked up Louis’ bag and removed it himself.

“Cheers” He muttered sarcastically as he sat down heavily, his long limbs contorting into the space like a baby giraffe.

Louis curled in on himself, staring at a sign across the carriage for a pregnancy multivitamin that he would never need. Right now it was the most interesting thing in the world, however, and by Finsbury Park he had memorised everything on the poster down to the small print.

From the corner of his eye Louis noticed the curls beside him swaying slightly as the man lulled into a doze. Louis snorted softly, there was always one person who fell asleep in the mornings, and it made him giggle watching their heads sway and jerk with the rhythm of the train. The curly boy was different though. It made Louis feel awkward, having him so vulnerable and so close. He wanted to reach out and touch his hand, jolt him back into wakefulness, but with how badly their first interaction had gone, he was torn.

He looked around, hoping there was a metro or something that could distract him from the boy beside him. The boy who smelled of citrus and herbs, with something altogether darker and more sexual behind it. Just as he settled back against his seat, the train swayed, and the curly man’s head came to a rest on Louis’ shoulder.

The desire to wake him grew exponentially. Not only was this a massive public transport faux pas on Curly’s part, but the longer Louis let him rest his head there the more awkward it would be when he had to wake him to get off the train.

When the boy curled himself into Louis, rubbing his face lightly against Louis’ shoulder, all thoughts of annoyance or of waking him were left behind them in the tunnel. He looked like an angel. What on earth was Louis meant to do?

For the next 4 stops he sat very still, trying to not even tense a muscle in fear of waking the sleeping man on his shoulder. Every light puff of breath that fell on his neck was torture, every tiny pout of the man’s plush lips felt like the most intimate of kisses. If he didn’t spontaneously combust by the time he got to Victoria then it would be a miracle.

His confusing mix of pain and pleasure was ended abruptly at Oxford Circus, where the marauding crowds of commuters woke the boy with loud words and carelessly dropped bags that ended up in the man’s foot. There was an even more awkward moment where the boy snuggled closer for a second before finally coming to his senses and jolting away. They both stared ahead, unwilling to make eye contact with each other or with anyone else in the carriage. The man sipped his coffee, which was surely cold by now, and studied his hands like they held the answer to the meaning of life.

At the next stop the man abruptly wrenched himself out of his seat and disappeared into the crowds, leaving Louis to sink into his seat with a sigh. He grabbed his phone, firing a text to Liam as soon as he had signal.

**  
The Plan's off. I’m moving to thailand and becoming a monk**


	3. Day 3

Harry was late. He was often late but today he was even later than normal. He’d slept through his alarm again, or pressed snooze one too many times, it didn’t matter which excuse he used. He’d thrown his hair into a bun, no time to shower, and practically run to the tube from his flat. There was a part of him that almost wished he was going to miss his normal train, after yesterday’s mortifying experience of waking up on someone else’s shoulder, but he really didn’t want to piss his boss off any more than usual.

When he elbowed his way onto the tube, there was only one seat left. Of course there was. Right next to the man he had embarrassed himself over yesterday. Luck seemed to very much not be on Harry’s side. As he lowered himself into the seat he tried to avoid eye contact. Tried to avoid thinking about waking up with his lips pressed into goosebumped skin that smelled of vanilla and almonds. Tried to not notice that the man he had slept on was possibly the most beautiful man he had ever laid eyes on. In his annoyance at the man not moving his bag the previous day, and shame at falling asleep, he hadn't really taken the man in.

His hair was soft and swept over his face, his eyes were a startling shade of blue that up until that moment Harry had thought only existed in cheesy romance novels, and his cheekbones were high and razor sharp. It was like someone had created this man from all of Harry’s darkest fantasies, and cruelly deposited him into Harry’s life in the worst way possible. He could obviously never talk to the man, not when shame burned his skin even at the mere thought of that, but how was he meant to know that his soft skin smelled so sweet and perfect and not be allowed to lick it and find out if he tasted the same?

Focussing on a game on his phone that he hadn’t even glanced at in months, he tried to persuade himself that the vision of perfection beside him was more than likely straight anyway, and that even if he wasn’t, the absolute last thing Harry had time for was a boyfriend. He worked his mornings doing admin for a record store, his afternoons at a music PR internship and his evenings either at gigs through his internship or through the music blog he had been running for three years now. He was lucky he managed to balance it all as it was, and it only worked due to very understanding bosses in both roles who he’d known for a while. If it wasn’t for the fact he had known Merlin and Lewis at his PR firm for years by dint of writing about their bands, there was no way he would be able to work part time.

He hadn’t even had time to grab coffee this morning, and the aromas floating up from the beautiful man beside him’s cup were pure torture. He clicked off his phone, running out of lives quickly through his complete inability to concentrate on anything but vanilla and almond and coffee, on caramel hair and cerulean blue eyes. Tiredness washed over him in waves. Last night he had been at a gig until eleven, home at midnight, and had still had to stay up blogging until two. His candle was very much being burnt at both ends, possibly melted in the middle a bit too. He knew it couldn’t work long term but until he got a paying music industry job, he had to pay the bills somehow.

Harry woke up to soft fingers wrapping around his arm and shaking it gently. A thumb swept over the back of his knuckles, causing shivers to run down his spine. A beat later realisation dawned. He had fallen asleep again, and yet again seemed to be pressed against the smooth caramel skin of the beautiful man he had been trying to avoid.

This time their eyes met as Harry pushed away, and to his surprise the other man’s contained only kindness, not the annoyance Harry would have expected. He gave a small smile, unable to look away as people moved around them, surging off the tube.

“I think this is your stop?” The voice was raspy, northern. Drenched in cigarettes and whisky and the first warm sun of spring. He wanted to stay in it all day, but the words finally settled into his mind and caused him to jerk bodily away from where the man still gently held his hand.

“Fuck!” He mouthed, jumping up from his seat and out the doors just as they started to shut, turning to shout a thank you just as the train started to pull away.

Maybe luck was on his side after all.


	4. Day 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so massively overwhelmed by the love/kudos/comments/messages I have received over this fic.
> 
> Thank you all from the bottom of my heart <3
> 
> Hope you enjoy today's snippet

When Louis stopped into Eat 17 for his coffee on the way to the tube, it was entirely not his fault when he asked for two lattes instead of one. The curly haired man had been coffeeless the day before, and it had made Louis’ heart clench slightly at the sight of him clearly eyeing up Louis’ cup. Louis wouldn’t allow himself to think that he might have been eyeing up more than the coffee; The Plan was off after all.

He was just buying a coffee to be nice, seeing they had gotten off to such a bad start, and also for purely selfish reasons of maybe not having the beautiful man fall asleep on him and Louis not therefore have to fight the urge to plant kisses on the man’s long neck for the entirety of his tube journey. His motives were pure.

By the time he was on the tube he felt entirely stupid. The man probably wouldn’t even sit beside him, and even if he did he would probably have his own coffee, and even if he didn’t Louis giving him a cup was just creepy, right? He was close to handing the coffee over to the girl with the adidas trainers and bag of heels (today they were at least four inches and a stunning bright turquoise, Louis was just a tiny bit in love with them), but a text from Liam gave him the courage to try. For once he was just going to take a risk, the worst that would happen was Louis would be slightly heartbroken, and might have to start getting the earlier train.

As he sat and waited for the train to leave he sipped his coffee and looked around. The redheaded woman with the wifi obsession was tapping out an email, looking up at the information board on the platform repeatedly as if to work out if she had time to send before they sped into the internet free doom of the tunnel. Louis, on the other hand, was wishing the train would hurry up and move. It was one thing to present creepy coffee to curly commuters, another thing entirely to present cold creepy coffee.

Finally they were moving, slipping into the darkness of the tunnel and the rhythmic sway of the train’s movements. It lulled Louis into a false sense of security, one where he could forget that in just a few short moments he would be faced with the curly man, with either giving him coffee or with sitting awkwardly for the rest of the journey holding two cups, trying to pretend he just really needed caffeine.

There was a seat beside him, which was both terrifying and relieving in equal parts. There were also a few seats scattered around the carriage, however, and so there was no guarantee of anything. It was at times like this that Louis wished smoking on the tube was allowed, and not a massive fire and health risk. His fingers itched towards the pack in his coat pocket, as if in reassurance that after this was done nicotine was there to soothe his tattered soul.

The train stopped. The doors opened. Louis’ world slipped into slow motion for a few moments as the commuters piled onto the carriage. His eyes met the green eyes of the man of his obsessions, and there was a small smile of recognition there, which fuelled a fiery inferno of hope within Louis.

The seat beside him was suddenly filled with curls and long limbs, with bitten lips and... Louis had to stop staring. The man wasn’t holding a coffee, much to Louis’ delight. He had headphones on though, which made Louis’ next move slightly tricker. He held the coffee out mutely, not quite sure what words to use. The other man just stared back, both caught in a moment that neither seemed to fully understand.

“Umm... I noticed you didn’t have a coffee yesterday. Thought..” He swallowed around the words, taking a deep breath before continuing. “ I, umm, I thought it might help with you being so tired?”

The headphones were pushed back as the man scrunched his nose slightly as if trying to suppress a laugh. That wasn’t exactly the best response. Louis was about to give up, to just turn back and burn in his shame until he could get off at the next stop and wait for the next train, when the man reached out and took the coffee with a quiet ‘thanks’.

They sat in silence, sipping their drinks, which Louis noted were lukewarm but the man didn’t seem to be bothered. Neither seemed to know how to carry on the conversation, but that was fine, the silence was almost companionable.

By Highbury and Islington Curly had succumbed to the sway of the train and was nodding off again, his head slowly coming to rest on Louis’ shoulder. Louis gently removed the almost empty coffee cup from the man’s hand, only stiffening slightly when the action caused a murmur to escape the man’s lips against Louis’ neck. It was amazing how in only 3 days having this man asleep on his shoulder had come to be one of the highlights of his day. Every shudder of breath felt like a whispered confession. Louis just wished he knew what each one said.

He sat and listened to the strains of the music emanating from the man's headphones, recognising a band he knew vaguely through work.

_Well, nothing's gonna hurt me with my eyes shut_   
_I can see through them_   
_I am drawing pictures I'm evading_   
_I will not use them_ _  
_

Louis made a mental note to listen to the album when he got to the office. Music was such a personal thing, and Louis had a sense that the music this man listened to might give him some sort of insight into what made him tick.

At Oxford Circus he gently woke the man, noticing again the slight feeling of electricity that ran up his arm when their skin made contact. He was imagining it, obviously. Handing him back the coffee cup he watched the beautiful blush that crept over the man’s skin as he looked down at his hands where they touched Louis’.

  
“See you tomorrow.” The man whispered as he escaped at the next stop. His words were full of promises that Louis could only hope would one day be fulfilled.


	5. Day 5

Friday meant Harry was at his internship all day, doing reports on the week’s coverage that were the bane of his life. At least there would also be the traditional friday moaning with other PRs and interns on twitter, and Merlin always bought them a pub lunch and after work drinks. Normally he wouldn’t be in until ten, meaning a later train, but he’d decided to go in early today. He told himself it was to get a head start, this week having been great for coverage of their acts, which meant even longer reports, but if he was honest it was that he couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing the caramel haired coffee angel.

This morning he had plenty of time to go to the small cafe in the station and pick up his morning coffee, and as he waited in line that was exactly what he intended to do, so how he somehow left with a bag containing two croissants and no coffee to his name, he wasn’t entirely sure. If his coffee angel hadn’t provided this morning he could cope until he got to Old Street, but if he had, Harry was armed with a thank you gift. His stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of the man, of acknowledging that this had become a thing between them, of extending it to Harry bringing pastries and Coffee Angel bringing, well, coffee.

He wasn’t entirely sure where either of them intended for this to go, Coffee Angel was still most likely straight even if he did seem quite comfortable with Harry sleeping on him. He didn’t want it to end though, and so if he could keep things rolling with croissants then he would do so.

The platform was busy, people crowding around the entrances like they always did. Harry never really understood that mentality. If you just walked down the platform ten metres you didn’t have to huddle in a crowd of other sweaty tired humans, and had far more chance of getting a seat when the train arrived. Elbowing his way through with a sigh he headed right to the end of the platform; front carriage, that was where the coffee angel could be found.

When the doors open and he saw a seat free beside the man, who was holding two cups of coffee, he couldn’t contain the grin on his face. A small snort of laughter caught his attention, and when he turned to look for it’s source a girl holding a bag of heeled boots was smiling fondly at him and the coffee angel. Her shoes were a dark grey glitter, Harry loved them.

Sitting down he grinned impishly at the man beside him, and watched the smile be returned in kind. The man’s eyes sparkled as crinkles formed beside them. Harry had to catch his breath which seemed to have all been sucked out of him leaving a vacuum in his chest that was quickly filled with pure want.

“Hey you.” The man breathed out the words like a prayer, or maybe Harry had just been reading too much romantic novels.

“Hey, umm, I brought croissants?” Harry offered the bag forward.

“Is that a question, Curly?” Coffee Angel handed over one of the cups, taking the bag in return and sniffing deeply at the aromas emanating from it. “Almond?”

“Umm, one is, I didn’t know what you liked, I like both, so one’s plain and one’s almond.” It definitely hadn’t been the memory of the scent of Coffee Angel’s skin that had lead to Harry buying one almond croissant that morning, and he’d fight anyone who said otherwise.

“Mmmm, perfect.” Coffee Angel pulled both pastries out, smoothing the bag on his lap as a plate and placing them on it. He ripped them both in half and gave Harry back half of each. As if Harry wasn’t already entirely too endeared with this man.

“Fuck that’s good” The man muttered around a mouthful. A flake of the pastry hung to his full bottom lip. Harry wanted to reach out and brush it off so badly, or even lick it clean. Instead he busied himself with his coffee and his croissant.

Stations rushed by, but all Harry could focus on were the little hums of contentment that the man beside him was giving as he devoured his food. Those breathy moans were something Harry wanted to tuck in his pocket and keep for a rainy day.

When the pastries were gone, the man slowly and delicately licked each finger clean of crumbs and buttery residue. Harry was lost in a daze watching the man, unable to tear his gaze away even though he knew he was probably doing his creepy frog face. Niall had named it that once many moons ago, and while Harry tried to deny the claims put forth by his friends, it was a long lost battle.

He was startled from his daydreams of what he would love to do with those fingers and that mouth and those lips, when the train drew into Kings Cross.

“Fuck, shit, it’s Friday.” Coffee Angel just smiled at him with mirth in his eyes as Harry stated the obvious. “I get off here today, I... I have to go.”

Coffee Angel was protesting that Harry had four more stops to go, but Harry had no time to explain as he jumped out the doors onto the platform. He turned, eyes meeting across the crowds surging on and off the train. The man’s mouth opening in a shout.

“See you monday? I’ll bring coffee.”

The promise echoed in his mind like a mantra as the crowd carried him towards the Northern line.


	6. Day 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, first of all sorry this is being posted a bit later than normal. I've been a bit unwell today so it took a while to get it right. To make up for that it's almost twice as long as normal, as it's the weekend and so Louis isn't just on the tube seeing Harry (he doesn't see Harry at all, poor Louis!). I tried to keep it just a vignette of a part of Louis' day, but it sprawls a bit more than these chapters usually do.
> 
> Secondly there is a point in the story where Louis is at a market and ordering from a French vendor who makes him talk French. The vendor exists (or used to, I sadly now live on the opposite side of London and haven't been there in a while, he was still there last spring) and always makes me talk French to him, so I figure he would make Louis talk French too. HUGE thank you to my lovely friend Tamara who translated the French so that it is conversational and not the horribly stilted school girl French I would have come up with. There is a translation in the end note, if you don't understand French.
> 
> If you live in London get yourself to that market when the weather gets nicer, it's one of my happy places. 
> 
> Enjoy xx

The weekend dawned with hangover and regret. Furry mouth and bleary eyes greeted a world veiled in muted grey tones. Louis very nearly turned over and went back to sleep. He would have done if it hadn’t been for long standing plans with Liam.

An hour later he was on the tube to Highbury and Islington. It was ridiculous that after only a week of interacting with Curly he already missed his presence beside him on the tube. He kept turning to glance at the empty seat to his left, as if the man would magically appear there. Even the coffee he sipped to try and alleviate his hangover tasted stale. Louis was losing his mind.

A bus ride and a short walk through London Field’s later, and he was standing by a stall selling apples at the top of broadway market. Liam was late, because of course he was. In all his years of knowing and working with Liam the man had shown up on time maybe twice. One day Louis would stop trying to get places on time himself, but knowing Liam that would be the one time his friend was early.

Hipsters wearing barbour jackets and skinny jeans swarmed around him, spilled out of the Cat and Mutton and tumbled from the gates of London Fields. Louis waited, cataloguing everyone, listening to the music drifting from a nearby busker, the shouts of vendors, smelling the scent of fresh bread and fried mushrooms. He loved this market, loved the bustle and hustle that only appeared here once a week. Any other day he could walk through and barely meet a soul, but on a Saturday it was thronged with people and traders.

“Lou!” The shout came from across the street, and drew him sharply out of his people watching. Liam was accompanied by a dark haired man with cheekbones that made even Louis envious. Louis quirked his eyebrows at his friend questioningly as the two men drew closer.

“Louis, this is Zayn, we met a few weeks ago. Zayn, this is Louis.” The blush on Liam’s face was fascinating, it took a lot to fluster him, but this beautiful man seemed to have done the trick.

“Pleasure to meet you, dude. How do you guys know each other?” Louis was nothing is not nosey. His best friend not telling him he had met someone was kind of unheard of, and it intrigued him.

“You too, man. Heard a lot about you. Liam and I met...” Zayn tailed off, looking curiously to Liam who seemed to be squeezing Zayn’s hand hard in warning. Curiouser and curiouser.

“We met in a bar.” Liam supplied, and the confusion on Zayn’s face just grew. Ok then, Louis would need to investigate further later. Right now he needed food though, his hangover creeping from the ‘oh god I never want to see food again’ stage into ‘feed me everything you have.”

“Okay Liam. If you say so.” Louis smirked at his friend, a smirk that said they would talk later. “Right, let’s wander? Get some food?” The others nodded in agreement and Louis turned towards the market, ready to get lost in the smells and flavours, even though he knew exactly what he would end up eating.

Half an hour later and they had all had so many tasters of olives and cheese and brownies that they almost didn’t need lunch after all. Louis’ bag was weighed down with a bottle of balsamic vinegar, a loaf of sourdough, two slices of the best banana bread in the world, and a vintage shirt he would likely never wear. His wallet was a good deal lighter, however. The market was a dangerous place to come if you weren’t willing to walk away with things you never knew you needed.

Finally they worked their way back up the road towards the galetterie that was Louis’ go to lunch place on any trip to the market. He had been coming to Jean Paul for years, the only man who could recreate the taste of Louis’ summer holidays to France as a kid. The crowd around the stall was three people deep, as Jean Paul and his assistant expertly spread batter, flipped the crepes and galettes and kept the banter flowing all at the same time.

“Louis! Ça va?” He was spotted over the heads of the girls in front of him. One of them turned to gawk, clearly annoyed to not have the full attention of the beautiful French man who was preparing her food.

“Hey Jean Paul..” Louis valiantly tried to respond in English, knowing the ribbing he always got from Liam when he spoke French, but was cut of with a dismissive wave of a spatula and a mock angry glare.

“No no, in French please!” There was a sparkle in the man’s eyes, and no malice there, Louis could feel a laugh bubbling in his chest at the inevitability of the ritual they went through every few weeks.

“Salut, Jean-Paul – oui ça va, et toi?” Louis acquiesced.

“Très bien – alors tu prends quoi aujourd’hui? ****” A crepe loaded with nutella and bananas was being folded into four and handed over to the girl in front of Louis. She still didn’t look impressed but her face morphed into happiness as soon as she took a bite. No one could be upset eating a nutella crepe, Louis thought.

“Une galette complète à l’emmental pour moi, et une crêpe au Nutella pour lui” Louis gestured to Liam. Zayn had wandered to the stall three down from the galetterie that sold salt beef sandwiches piled high with homemade pickles.

Jean Paul set about making their lunch, automatically adding salt and pepper just how Louis liked it, and adding just a little more cheese than most people got. There were perks to being a regular, even if not for Louis’ waistline.

“Comment va le boulot? T’as signé la prochaine nouvelle star?” Jean Paul had long taken an interest in Louis’ work in A&R, often pointing out buskers who he declared would be the next Paul McCartney or the next Madonna. They were invariably, without fail, awful, but Louis humoured him and they joked about it on every visit.

“Non, c’est une semaine lente de ce côté-là…” Louis laughed. A soft snort from Liam signalled that his friend might have been about to start ribbing Louis about how it hadn’t been a quiet week on all fronts, but pre-emptive action in the form of a swift heel to Liam’s toes put paid to that.

“Mother fucker! I’m off to find Zayn. You get to pay for mine for that.” Liam poked him in the side as he turned and walked away. It was a small price to pay.

“Ok, voilà la tienne - et celle-ci pour Liam.” Both packages were handed over swaddled in napkins, but Louis still somehow ended up licking melted cheese from his arm as he gave his goodbyes. It was a dangerous if delicious lunch.

“Super, merci, à bientôt!” He called, already being pushed away by the crowd who surged forwards in search of their own crepes.

The three men settled into a shady corner of London Fields to eat their treats. The grey that Louis had woken up to seemed to have burned off with his hangover, leaving a beautifully warm late summer day. Zayn produced three beers magically from his bag, offering them out to Liam and Louis. After a quick metal prod of his brain to test said hangover, Louis decided he was definitely at the stage where hair of the dog would be a beneficial activity, and gladly swigged back the brew, washing down a perfect mouthful of cheese and ham and egg wrapped in buckwheat pancake. Jean Paul was an artist he swore.

“So Louis.” Liam pointedly cleared his throat before he spoke, glancing over but refusing to maintain eye contact, as if he knew that whatever he said next would not be what Louis wanted to hear.

“Yes Liam?” Louis prodded, annoyance already colouring his voice. He knew where this was going, there was only one place their conversations had gone for the past few weeks.

“The Plan.” Liam intoned. Even Zayn smiled knowingly at Liam’s dramatic proclamation, meaning Liam had shared, the fucker.

“The Plan is off, Liam. You know this, we discussed it. Thailand, monks, shaving my head? Ring any bells? You told me I’d look like an East End gangster with a buzz cut? Cheers for that by the way, great for the ego.” Louis was the master of deflecting, changing the subject. He wasn’t one hundred percent sure why did didn’t want to talk about coffee and croissants and sleepy shared moments, but it felt personal and private in a way he couldn’t ever explain.

“Louis. You need to talk to the man. You’ll regret it forever otherwise.” Ok so maybe Louis could deflect anyone but Liam. They’d been friends too long and Liam had become wise to Louis’ ways.

“I know I hardly know you Louis, but I’d have to agree with Li. If I hadn’t picked up the courage to talk to you at that art show I would have always wondered.” Zayn’s face morphed into softness as he turned to address the second half of his statement to Liam, and instead of the usual annoyance Louis would feel at such a public display of fondness, he could only feel a pang of jealousy today.

“Art show? I thought you guys met in a bar?” Louis ignored Zayn and Liam’s wise advice, instead choosing to focus on the blush that was once again working it’s way up Liam’s neck. This was definitely something Louis needed to investigate.

“There was a bar at the show.” Liam snapped, every word making Louis more and more sure there was a story to tell. “Anyway, let’s talk about The Plan 2: rebooted bigger and better than before.” Louis laughed loudly, vowing internally to confiscate every action film that Liam owned.

“Actually, we’ve talked. Kind of.” Louis made a decision. If there was anyone he could talk to it was Liam. His friend’s eyebrows rose so high Louis thought they would meet his hairline.

“You’ve what?” People nearby turned to stare, Liam’s sudden shout was so loud and sharp. Louis took a deep breath and got ready to tell his friend everything, suddenly feeling lighter even at the thought of talking about the curly haired man with the sleepy mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok the french translation (or close enough on meaning anyway):
> 
> “Louis! How are you?” 
> 
> “Hey Jean Paul, I’m good, you?”
> 
> “Good good, so what are you having today?”
> 
> “A galette complète with emmental for me, and he’s having nutella.”
> 
> “How’s work Louis? Signed the next big thing this week?” 
> 
> “No, it’s been a quiet week on that front.”
> 
> “Ok, this one's for you, and here, for Liam.”
> 
> “Thanks man, see you soon!”


	7. Day 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter again. And again sorry its been posted later than normal. I'll be back on track tomorrow when our boys get to see each other in person again!

He needed to get out of the house, to get away from his thoughts of the caramel haired coffee angels which had so far haunted every second of his weekend. Niall had got to the point where he just walked out of the living room when Harry mentioned the man, unable to cope with Harry’s incessant chatter and wonderings.

Grabbing his headphones and a copy of Music Week he headed out the door, not quite sure of his destination but sure his feet would find the right place to be. Ten minutes later he was wandering beside the Lee river winding his way through the reservoirs, heading towards the olympic park. The river turned into canal, with narrow boats lining its edges, all bright colours and trailing plants. A small pug ran around the tow path near one of the boats, and it took Harry a good five minutes to drag himself away from the bundle of joy that attacked his leg as soon as it saw him.

The scenery changed from green parks to industrial wasteland as he neared Hackney Wick. The olympic regeneration hadn’t spread very far, you only needed to walk a few miles from the site and the old East London still existed. Graffiti ruled the edges of the canal here, political statements mingling with tags of local gangs. Within minutes, however, he had reached the junction of the regent's canal and the olympic stadium was laid out in all it’s glory ahead of him. The quick scenery changes still shocked him, even after living here for years. London was a million different cities nested inside each other like a Russian Doll.

He turned away from the canal, climbing up a set of stairs past gentrified flats with sprawling penthouses, into the warren of old warehouses that he knew still existed behind the facade of wealth. Many of them still worked as storage, as carpet shops, as fishmongers. Some had been turned into artists studios and cheap open plan flats filled with too many students. There was one though that had been turned into a cafe. He used to come here with his ex, who lived in one of the warehouses at the time. They did the best breakfasts for miles around, along with wonderful cakes and coffee. It was just the sanctuary his brain needed today.

He settled onto a sofa near the back of the cafe, with a pot of earl grey and a slice of banana bread. His laptop plugged in and headphones on, he tried to focus on editing photos from the gig he had shot on Thursday. He’d normally have them up by now, but everything was piling up lately, in no small part due to his inability to concentrate on anything properly this week, apart from blue eyes and caramel hair that was. He seemed to be able to concentrate on those very well indeed.

After half an hour he allowed himself a break, sipping on the last of the tea from the pot, which was almost cold by now. Checking the jobs section of Music Week he sighed in disappointment. There was so little, and what there was seemed to require a great deal more experience than Harry had. Merlin had spoken about taking him on full time after festival season, of creating a role for him, but that was still at least a month away and Harry was exhausted.

He flipped to the tweets of the week section. It was a mishmash of industry gossip and just silly tweets by people who worked in music that had made the editors laugh. One of Harry’s check boxes on his ‘how I’ll know I’ve made it” list, was to be featured as a tweet of the week. This week seemed to mainly involve people moaning about the mud at whichever festival had happened last weekend, and wondering if they could expense massages at Reading next week. He rolled his eyes, the industry seemed to shut down for the entirety of festival season, unless you had to be at said festivals trudging through mud to make sure your artists were at their interviews on time.

One tweet tucked away in the corner grabbed his attention. The picture of the tweeter was just a grey egg, but the sentiment was something Harry could get behind;

_I’d like to start the day by saying a big fuck you to the mirror :)_

_Louis_Tomlinson, A &R at Capitol UK._

 

Harry was just about to google the man, see what exactly had happened this week to lead to such a statement, when his phone buzzed beside him, indicating a text from Niall.

**I might have burned the kitchen work surface a bit. Just a tiny bit. Help?**

Their landlord would kill them, this was exactly why Niall was banned from using Harry’s cast iron pan. He shot off a reply as he grabbed his things together, closing the window on his computer before he could hit send on his search.

_Fucks sake N, I’m on my way_ **.**


	8. Day 8

Butterflies filled Louis’ tummy as he sat clutching his two coffees on the tube. Knowing he would see the curly haired man again after two barren curl-less days was both thrilling and terrifying.

The girl with the shoes was smiling knowingly at him over her make up compact. He blushed and looked down at the two coffees, sipping on his own to have something to do. Her shoes were bright yellow today, her outfit all black. He smiled softly at the bag by her feet, before looking up and shrugging as the tube finally moved away from the platform.

The tunnel between Walthamstow central and Blackhorse road seemed even longer than normal, the train dawdling as it carried Louis towards the man. When they arrived he was delighted to see the man at the front of the platform, waiting almost as eagerly as Louis to be reunited. Curly's face split into a wide grin when he saw Louis, deep dimples forming beside his mouth. If Louis hadn't been entirely fucked as it was, those dimples would have been the final nail in his coffin.

The man held a bag of pastries again, the buttery sweet scent greeting Louis as Curly sat down.

"Hey, good weekend?" The man's green eyes blazed as he spoke. He sounded slightly breathless, but Louis refused to put that down to his own affect on the man, instead telling himself that Curly had to run to make the train.

"Yeah, saw some friends, all very chill. You get up to much?" Louis was not fishing for information on potential dates the man may have been on, even though his stomach knotted at the thought. He was just being polite.

"Mostly work, although I was a bit distracted." The man chuckled at himself as he spoke, a blush  creeping up his neck and onto his pretty face as he spoke. That was interesting and frankly beautiful. Louis desperately wanted to know what exactly had made the man blush so he could repeat it, make him look like this at all times.

"Working at the weekend? Very dedicated." Louis passed over one of the coffees, taking the bag of pastries in return. He placed his own coffee between his thighs, noticing the way Curly's eyes followed the movement, coming to rest on Louis' crotch. Perhaps The Plan had a slight possibility of working after all, especially now it had been tweaked into The Plan 2 with Liam and Zayn. The difference mostly lay in Louis just carrying on buying coffee and letting the man sleep on him, rather than actually having to make excuses to talk. It was low key and solid in Louis' opinion.

He opened the bag to find one croissant and one danish pastry that seemed to have some sort of custard and fruit filling. He pulled them both out, resting them on the empty bag once again.

"Well this looks extravagant Curly." He joked, watching the blush grow again, counting it as a massive success.

"They were nearly out, apparently everyone wants pastries on a Monday. Hope these are ok?" The man was so cute when he was bashful and apologetic like this. It was just another thing about him that Louis wanted to tuck away, catalogue, and never lose.

"Look's delicious." Louis carefully tore the two pastries in half before handing the spoils over.  They lapsed back into silence as they ate and sipped at their coffees. By Highbury and Islington the man beside him had nodded off, head swaying to rest in it's rightful place on Louis' shoulder.

He couldn't help it, when he reached out to brush a lock of hair from the man's face. It was just a natural instinct that no one could ever blame him for. When his thumb brushed the man's cheekbones the electricity that had been there before was back in force, rushing up Louis' arm towards his heart. It was a struggle to pull his hand away, to not caress the man's face, not trace his fingers over the delicate purpled skin under his tired eyes.

Louis ended up having to sit with his hands clasped between his thighs, trying hard to control his desire to touch, learn, explore. He took deep breaths, reading the warning on the side of his now empty coffee cup, trying to concentrate on anything but the light puffs of air that landed on his neck. He really wasn't normally the kind of person who would creepily drool over sleeping men on the tube, but this man did something to him that he could't explain.

At Oxford Circus he relented, waking the man by brushing the pads of his fingers over Curly's wrists, feeling their pulses beat together for just a few seconds before the man stirred and moved.

"'M sorry," his voice was cracked and thick with sleep and Louis wanted to hear it every day for the rest of forever. He was entirely too enamoured with this man considering they didn't even know each other's names.

"Anytime." Louis replied, knowing that his face had morphed into the picture of fondness. He tried to contain it, looking down at his nails as he tried to school his face back into a neutral expression, but he knew he had failed from the way Curly was staring at him when he looked back up.

"What's your name, Curly?" He almost whispered the question, their faces still so close from where Curly had been sleeping on him.

"It's..." The tube shuddered to a halt bursting the bubble that surrounded them. Curly was suddenly on his feet, being carried towards the door with the crowd of people exiting.

Louis watched as the man turned at the door, opening his mouth to shout over the crowd.

"Harry. See you tomorrow!"

The doors closed, the train moved on, but all Louis could hear was _Harry_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrow will be up earlier than normal as I am out all day, and while I thought there was a way to schedule posts on AO3 it doesn't seem there is. So you get an earlier treat, but longer to wait after ;)


	9. Day 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little earlier than normal and a little shorter... short but sweet hopefully
> 
> Tomorrow's update may be slightly later than normal, but hopefully not
> 
> Thank you all SO much for the messages and comments and kudos, its honestly blowing my mind
> 
> Sxxx

Harry had slept for all of four hours and could feel the tiredness tugging at the back of his brain like an anchor dragging him down. As he stood on the platform, swaying slightly as his body struggled to stay awake, he desperately hoped that the caramel haired coffee angel had delivered today, as coffee was the only thing that was going to get him through this day.

The train pulled in, and through the window Harry could see salvation in the form of the most beautiful boy he had ever seen, holding two cups of coffee. Coffee angel’s hair was soft and swooped into a fringe, his eyes hooded and almost as tired looking as Harry knew his own must be. All he wanted to do was curl into a bed piled high with duvets and pillows and sleep next to the angel.

“Morning Harry.” The man greeted him with a wide smile. Harry took a moment to savour how his name sounded rolling from the man’s tongue. The northern rasp reminded him of home in a world where he was surrounded by rounded southern vowels. He wanted to wrap it around him like his favourite coat.

“Hey.” He replied softly, handing over his bag of croissants and taking a coffee in return. As he sipped he revelled in the heady flavours, strong and rich and dark. It was exactly what he needed.

“Ohhh, almond again. Good choice young Harold.” Harry almost spat his coffee out at the nickname, a mixture of amusement and delight that this man was already making up names for him, making him giggle.

“I figured you liked them after last week.” he tried to focus on the man in front of him, rather than the thought of how his skin probably tasted golden and nutty like the pastries he was holding.

“You’d be right. I’m Louis by the way.” In all Harry’s tiredness this morning he had forgotten to ask that simple detail. Louis suited the man, regal, soft, slightly unusual.

“Lovely to meet you Louis.” He grinned around his coffee cup, trying to mask the fondness that probably exploded over his face. He thought he heard a muttered ‘finally’ from across the aisle, but when he looked up there was only a collection of blank faces and the girl with the shoes expertly applying her eyeliner.

The coffee did little to alleviate Harry’s exhaustion, and by Finsbury Park he could feel the tiredness creeping up to meet him. His head lolled a few times, jerking him between the worlds of wake and sleep.

“Hey Harry, sleep ok? I’ll hold your coffee.” Louis whispered beside him, turning his body slightly so Harry could curl into him and rest his head on his shoulder. The invitation was so inviting that any last embarrassment Harry may have felt dropped away.

As he folded himself into Louis’ space he was aware for the first time of just how well their bodies fit together. Louis was smaller than him, but there seemed to be a space on his shoulder that was carved out perfectly for Harry. He hadn’t been awake the other times he had ended up in this position, and almost wished he wasn’t now. The sudden awareness of how much he wanted to be spooned up close to this man filled every inch of his being. How could he sleep when every nerve in his body craved soft touches and gentle words? Long lie ins curled in this man’s arms and breakfast in bed with crappy films?

He must have fallen asleep at some point, because he was pulled from dreams of gentle kisses and golden skin by Louis’ fingers brushing his face, soft words telling him his stop was up next. He wanted to pretend he was still asleep so the man would continue to caress his cheek, but Louis must have noticed the slight hitch in Harry’s breathing because he drew his hand away like he had been caught doing something wrong. If Harry whimpered slightly at the loss it was nobodies business but his own.

Far too quickly it was time for Harry to get off the train, leaving behind his oasis of calm, leaving behind the boy he seemed to fit with like a puzzle. Everything in him was fighting to stay, to hide away from the world in this bubble where he could pretend Louis was his and he was Louis’.

“Thank you.” He whispered quietly as he forced himself to pull away and live in reality. But reality was cold and grey and it didn’t have Louis in it. How had Harry become the kind of person who lived for fifteen minutes of colour and warmth every day?


	10. Day 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's up later. This chapter just kept veering too far into sappiness... You might not believe it when you read it but this is 10 times less tooth rotting than it kept trying to be
> 
> Enjoy, and thank you so much for the amazing comments and love. I am, as always, utterly overwhelmed.
> 
> Sx

A rare night at home had seen Harry deciding to bake for Louis, but now as he ran for the tube, he was second guessing himself. He almost threw away the bag of banana bread that he clutched, thick sticky slices already staining the paper with grease. It was only the lack of bins on the platform, and the thought of showing up empty handed when Louis had coffees, that stopped him.

The train pulled in and the doors opened to a smile brighter than sunshine and five times as warm. Harry couldn’t help returning it, going to the seat Louis had reserved with his backpack and tucking himself in beside the man of his dreams. Louis was quite literally the man of his dreams, it wasn’t just a figure of speech, he had been dreaming about him all week.

“Morning, love.” Louis’s face was so open, blue eyes sparking at Harry as he spoke. “What delicious yeasty buttery concoction have you brought me today, Curly?” Harry couldn’t help but giggle at the nicknames, not sure which made him blush more, even as his nerves over today’s breakfast returned in full force.

“I actually made something for us.” He muttered sheepishly, holding out the bag like it was a grenade he had accidentally pulled the pin on.

“As in you baked?” Harry nodded. “Fucking hell, you can stay!” Louis opened the bag excitedly, taking a deep breath of the aromas emanating from it. He quirked a questioning eyebrow at Harry.

“It’s banana bread, uh, I hope you like bananas.” Despite Louis’ obvious glee at the situation, Harry was still so nervous that this baking would be awful. Maybe he forgot the bicarb? Maybe he used self-raising flour instead of plain and had _too much_ raising agent. He’d tasted it last night after it baked, of course, but that didn’t stop his imagination running wild right this second.

“I can tell it’s banana bread, how did you know that’s my favourite?” Louis sounded genuinely in awe, shocked that someone would go to this much effort for him. Harry couldn’t quite understand that, Louis was the kind of person people should always make an effort for in his opinion.

“I... I didn’t? I just like it myself and hoped for the best.” Harry watched nervously as Louis pulled a slice from the bag, biting into it and moaning in the most obscene way possible. The man’s eyes fluttered shut as he chewed, his face glowing as he savoured the first bite. A whole swarm of butterflies invaded Harry’s stomach as a small seed of hopefulness grew in him; Louis seemed to love his baking.

“Harry,” Louis almost whispered after he swallowed, “this is incredible. Like, it’s better than the ones I get at Broadway Market and I’ve always been certain they lace that shit with crack.”

The laugh Harry let out was ugly and honking but he couldn’t help it. It was dragged out of him by the awe in Louis voice and the fact the tension he had been holding left him instantly at Louis’ words. He covered his face, embarrassed over the noise he was making but unable to stop himself.

“No illegal drugs involved.” He finally managed to push the words out, sipping his coffee to try and control his laughter. “Just some love and care.”

“No honestly, what’s your secret?” Louis covered his mouth as he spoke, still chewing his second bite.

“Um, I caramelise the bananas before I put them in the batter, gives it a richer flavour.” Louis’ eyes were wide, taking in every word Harry spoke like it was the secret of life. It was wonderful, having this beautiful man’s attention so focused on him.

“I don’t even know what that means, can barely boil an egg without setting the world on fire, but I like it. You, young Harold, should be a baker, if you aren’t already.” Louis was still making his way through his slice, his coffee abandoned between his thighs. Harry so desperately wanted to stare at those thighs, to one day feel them wrapped around him, but he valiantly kept his gaze on Louis’ face. Mostly. He was human after all.

“It’s just a hobby. I watch too much bake off, get ideas. It’s nice to get to bake for someone other than my housemate. He’s more of a savoury fan.” Harry was rambling, still feeling residual nerves from baking for Louis and from Louis’ slightly over the top reaction, but the soft haired angel in front of him seemed to hang on every utterance.

“That man is a fool. Tell him from me, please.” Louis was down to his final bite. Harry hadn’t even started his slice yet and in a fit of ‘not wanting to stop watching Louis enjoy his baking’ he tore it in half and offered half to the other man. Louis’ eyes widened, as if in shock that Harry would be so nice, but he didn’t complain.

Finally they had both finished their breakfasts, coffees down to the final dregs and banana bread reduced to just a few crumbs and the grease stains on the bag. It meant it was nearly time to leave Louis again, to face the real world where Harry, as a lowly intern, got to watch all his friends excitedly prepare for Reading festival when he didn’t even have a ticket. Harry much preferred the world of the tube and his coffee angel.

Just as it was his stop, Louis turned to him, a very serious look on his face. The nerves were back in full force in an instant. What could Louis possibly be about to say?

“Harry?” He waited.

“Yes?” Harry forced the word around the lump in his throat.

“Can you bake every day?” Harry burst out laughing again. His embarrassing honking laugh that he had now shown Louis twice in one day. Louis just looked utterly endeared though.

“I’ll try.” He finally spluttered, heading for the doors. It wasn’t like Harry had the time to bake, most days he hardly had the time to eat and sleep, but as he left the tube he realised he would make time. For Louis he thought he might always make time.


	11. Day 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry I didn't update yesterday, I had a busy day which culminated in my living room being full of larries watching Alan Carr and drinking mulled wine. 
> 
> I will be updating twice today, this is part one, day 11. Later will be day 12 
> 
> Sxx

Today was the day. Louis had woken up determined and excited after an evening talking to Liam over beers and fifa. They had moved onto stage two of The Plan after Louis had spent a good ten minutes describing the perfect banana bread and Liam had ended it by hitting Louis with a pillow and telling him to ‘fucking ask him out already.” So that was what Louis was going to do.

His usual coffees had been bought, his hair was looking pretty ok, his clothes were as cool as an A&R man in his late 20s could manage, and his shoes were shiny and clean. He was as ready as he would ever be to ask out the boy of his dreams. His worst fear was that Harry would say no, and that he would therefore lose his morning sanctuary, but if he let it go on longer without knowing it would only be more painful the longer Louis enjoyed said sanctuary.

The tunnel seemed to go on forever, a never ending torture before he got to see Harry, talk to Harry, ask Harry.

Finally, just as Louis thought he might lose his mind, the train pulled in. The doors opened. Harry didn’t appear.

A man in a pinstripe suit with too shiny shoes sat beside Louis instead. His hair was thick with product and swept back from his face. It definitely wasn’t curly and soft and falling to his shoulders. Louis hesitated, unsure what to do. Maybe Harry was late, maybe Louis should jump off the train and hope Harry appeared before the next one. Maybe Harry had been early today and had caught the train before, maybe he was wondering where Louis was as he sadly ate whatever he had baked for them today. The thought hurt Louis’ heart.

Just as he was about to jump off the train and go in search of his curly haired prince, the doors closed and the train pulled out of the station, whisking Louis away from the one place he knew to find Harry.

His heart was heavy, coffee tasting burnt and bitter in his mouth. He couldn’t help it, it felt like rejection even though there was no logical way Harry could have known Louis was planning to ask him out. Louis’ brain still whirred, making up scenarios where he had come on too strong, smiled too wide, fonded too much, been too obvious in his attraction. Maybe Harry was straight, maybe he had just been trying to be friendly and had finally worked out Louis’ intentions.

“Hey, he’ll be back, he likes you too much.” The words startled Louis, and when he turned to the side he found the girl with the shoes, lipstick in one hand, mirror in the other, smiling kindly at him. He hadn’t been aware they had been quite that obvious, that others would notice. Someone external agreeing Harry liked him, however, that was possibly the only thing that could make him smile today.

“Do you think so?” He pushed, needing validation, offering over his spare coffee as he did so.

“You’re both clearly smitten.” She sipped the coffee gratefully, Louis wondering if he might eventually just need to bring a flask to hand out to everyone in the carriage. “There’s a million different reasons he might be busy today, or just late. Don’t stress about it, yeah? He’ll be back soon.”

Louis tried to listen, tried to take in her words, but it was so hard when he was missing his twenty minutes of sunshine and butterflies in this tummy. His moments with Harry had become something that sustained him during every day at work. When he was trying to placate some artist or their manager, chasing PR agents who weren’t doing enough, spending long hours in recording studios. It all came back to Harry. He knew it had only been a week and a bit but already he felt bereft.

It made him question his resolve to ask the boy out. If he felt like this after one sad colourless day without Harry, how would he feel if Harry turned him down and he never saw the man again. Maybe the safety of assured friendship was better than the slim possibility of love, even if it offered only a tenth of the sparkle love promised.

By the time he got off the train at Victoria to change to the circle line he was sure, safe and steady was how he would play this should Harry come back. He just didn’t know what he would do if Harry didn’t come back.


	12. Day 12

Louis was early. It was quarter to 8, and he was already standing at Blackhorse Road station, having gotten off the tube five minutes earlier. He clutched his own coffee, and a travel cup that held Harry’s in an attempt to keep it warm. If the boy showed again, if Louis should get that lucky, the last thing he wanted to do was offer him a cold latte.

People flitted around him loaded with backpacks and tents and crates of beer, heading out of London for a weekend of bands in fields at Reading or Leeds. Louis could only focus on the entrance to the platform, on searching for curls and green eyes.

Time ticked on, trains went past with startling regularity, and yet still Harry never appeared. Louis’ normal train rushed past with a sad sympathetic look from the girl with the shoes. Louis felt like a fool, standing there with his coffee in the middle of a barren platform.

Where was the boy? Why had he not shown up for two days? It was Friday and Louis wouldn’t be able to see Harry for two more days, wouldn’t be able to hunt for him, not even knowing where to start. Monday felt years away, his next chance to find the boy, and find some way to keep him forever so Louis never had to feel this way again. It might be a dramatic reaction to someone he had spoken to for maybe a grand total of half an hour, but Louis didn’t do things by half.

Finally, regretfully, he gave up. He boarded a train half an hour later than his normal one, not even caring that he would be late for work. No one would care anyway. It was Reading weekend anyway, most of the office would already be there, set up in the Malmaison in Reading pretending they were at the festival when really they were expensing drinks for friends in the hotel bar. Later they would finally head to the site, congregate in the guest bar where some semi famous DJ would play. One or two of them might make it out into the main site, the rest would listen to the headliner from the guest area, pretending they could hear it, before drinking the night away and finally pouring into a taxi back to the hotel, only to repeat it all tomorrow.

Reading was the worst festival in Louis’ opinion. It was too close to London, and too close to the town. Unlike Glastonbury, say, industry people were able to stay in hotels and never leave the protection of their VIP bubble. At Glastonbury they _had_ to camp, apart from the lucky few who grabbed a b an b in the tiny village of Pilton. At Glastonbury far less people had VIP access, so you ended up leaving the backstage bar to see friends. And people had to leave to see the bands, who they actually wanted to see. Reading was just an industry wankfest on one side of the VIP fence, and a load of pissed up sixteen year olds who just passed their GCSEs on the other. Definitely the worst.

He sat morosely on the tube, all around him a blur of people who weren’t Harry. Why hadn’t he asked Harry for his number while he was able? His full name even? Or just Harry’s job so he could try and track him down. It felt like fate had handed him his ideal man and then cruelly and coldly removed him in a perfect example of ‘look what you could have won!”.

By the time Louis arrived at South Kensington he felt the weight of a thousand sleepless nights on his shoulders, which only upset him more, wondering who Harry might be sleeping on today. There was a scratch in his throat that most certainly wasn’t the onset of tears. Louis would fight anyone who claimed otherwise.

The day was bright sunshine and warm skin, but Louis felt cold to his bones. He shivered as he pushed his way through the crowds on Kensington High Street. A coffee half way to the Universal building did nothing to warm him, even as it scalded his tongue when he swallowed.

A buzzing in his back pocket drew him out of his darkness. A text from Liam;

**Did he show?**

_No_ Louis replied just the single word, really not in the mood for tea and sympathy.

**Mate, I’m so sorry. Totally need to get trashed this weekend. Speaking of which, have a massive favour?**

_Shoot_

**Zayn wants to go to Reading on Sunday, really want to impress him. Years and Years and DFA are playing apparently. Since I went to Purple I don’t have as many chances at guest tickets, esp last min. Any chance?**

_I’ll see what I can do. Just Sunday yeah?_

He pocketed his phone, making a mental note to get one of the interns to grab him three comps when he got in. He might as well go with, if it was just for the day. Maybe it would actually cheer him up, or at least take his mind off Harry for the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My poor Louis <33333


	13. Day 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> possibly the worst timed update ever ;)
> 
> Enjoy xxx

It had been three days since Harry had felt properly clean. His back ached, his feet hurt from wading through sticky mud in his wellies, and his skin was sunburnt from the occasional moments when the sky cleared up and everyone stripped their layers off. He couldn’t complain though. Not when he was standing side of stage in the Radio 1 tent watching The Vaccines wind the crowd into a frenzy.

The photo he sent to Niall was captioned just that; ‘can’t complain’, even though actually he could hardly hear anything other than the drums and bass and had never realised how shit the sound was from this angle before. A friend had lent him her production pass when he had told her he’d never seen a band from that angle, but it was a bit of a let down, as she had warned him.

A tall man came to stand beside him three songs in, Harry barely turned his head to check who it was before staring determinedly back at the band. Nick bloody Grimshaw was standing beside him. Nick bloody Grimshaw who Harry had listened to religiously since he was at uni. Nick bloody Grimshaw who would now be referred to as Nick bloody Grimshaw at all times. This was insane.

“Dunno why we all bother watching from here, sounds crap innit?” Nick bloody Grimshaw was talking to him, Harry was sure. There was no one else here he could be talking to. What was he supposed to do? How does one talk to Nick bloody Grimshaw?

“Uh, yeah, it’s just all bass.” He mumbled, hoping that his answer sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

Nick bloody Grimshaw’s face lit up in a smile so he figured he’d done something right. A few deep breaths and he was focusing on the band again, certain that the conversation was over.

“Nice shirt, by the way. Where’s it from?” The conversation wasn’t over it seemed, and Nick bloody Grimshaw was complimenting the floral shirt Harry had picked up for three quid at his local charity shop. Again, his life was insane.

“Thanks? And um, it’s vintage, sort of.” Vintage sounded better than ‘found in a charity shop and likely used to belong to some old dude who needed glasses’ which was what Niall called most of Harry’s wardrobe.

“Cool.” Nick took a sip of the beer he was holding, before turning back to Harry with a grin on his face and a sparkle in his eyes. “Listen. I need something stronger than tuborg, and the rest of the crew are still working. Fancy going to the guest bar and getting hammered?”

Nick bloody Grimshaw had just asked Harry to get drunk. Harry who knew about ten people at the festival and who had last night been tucked up in his tent ten minutes after the headliner ended due to only knowing ten people and not being able to find anyone. Harry who had then spent the next two hours pining over Louis from the tube and worrying that the man thought Harry might have run away from him. He’d been told he was needed at Reading to cover promo on Wednesday afternoon, and hadn’t been able to get to the tube at the right time on Thursday to let Louis know. To be honest he thought it would have been quite odd and presumptuous to let Louis know anyway. Louis probably didn’t care, probably hadn’t noticed.

Nick bloody Grimshaw was waving a stack of drink tokens in Harry’s face, as if he needed to tempt the younger man with free drinks. Harry found himself nodding eagerly, and ten minutes later they were piled into a golf cart being driven back to the guest area through the production routes.

An hour and a half, three beers, four jager bombs and two rum and cokes later and Nick and Harry were officially trashed. Nick had also changed to just Nick as they discovered they got on like a house on fire, but the selfie Harry sent to Niall was still captioned ‘Nick bloody Grimshaw’.

“So Mr PR man, what’s your deal then? Girlfriend? Boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Tell me all the juicy goss.” Nick bloody Grimshaw was a nosey bastard when he was drunk it seemed, but sat on a picnic bench in the guest area as the sun set, with a pleasant buzz in his veins and some of Nick’s friends surrounding him, Harry was happy to talk.

“Not really.” The group awwed at him, making him giggle and lose his train of thought for a second. “There is sort of a guy though.”

“A guy! I knew it! I might be old but my gaydar is still functioning properly!” Nick crowed, earning him an elbow to the ribs from his friend Fiona. Harry just started giggling again, taking a few minutes to recover before he could continue.

“We met on the tube, I fell asleep on him.” Nick’s boyfriend fell off the bench laughing, which was rude but kind of understandable. “He’s the prettiest boy I’ve ever seen, all caramel hair and blue eyes. He brings me coffee every day and I bring him pastries and stuff.”

“Well if that isn’t the most tooth rottingly sweet love story ever. I feel like we are all fifteen again.” Nick’s face was soft and kind, undermining the teasing tone in his voice.

“What’s his name? What does he do? What haven’t you asked him out?” Fiona fired questions at him as she placed another round of shots on the table, all pausing to down them before Harry could continue.

“He’s called Louis, and umm, that’s basically all I know.” He admitted, taking in the incredulous faces around him.

“You only know his first name? Harold! You need to up your game, pet. I’m disappointed.” Nick was laughing so hard he almost fell off the bench too, and Harry could feel his cheeks burning in embarrassment as everyone focused on him.

He needed to get away, compose himself for a second, maybe call Niall, before he could come back to this group that he so badly wanted to impress. Grabbing some drinks vouchers he jumped up from his seat.

“More shots?” He was off before everyone even answered, heading in the direction of the bar.

Just before the crowds swallowed Harry up he heard Fiona laughing.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if his Louis was our Louis?”


	14. Day 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's posting a bit late. Life happens and I had lots of thoughts about this when I was out today and ended up rewriting most of it
> 
> Enjoy  
> Sxxx

They had been on site at Reading for all of thirty minutes and already Louis just wanted to go home. His shoes were covered in mud, Liam was crowing that Louis should have listened and brought his wellies and Zayn looked like a fucking god whereas Louis was a hungover mess.

When the addy lee had turned up this morning Louis had been so close to just telling Liam to fuck off. They had been drinking until three am, discussing all of Louis’ woes, and yet Liam managed to roll up to Louis’ flat looking fresh as a bloody daisy, a scant six hours after he had left.

At least Liam brought coffee, and a bacon roll, and more coffee half way to Zayn’s flat before the cab dropped them at Paddington. It still didn’t make Louis happy to be on site, though. Or to be on site with a pair of loved up fools who still wouldn’t even tell him how they met. Even half a bottle of tequila hadn’t got the story out of Liam the previous evening, and tequila usually made Liam’s tongue loosen up within minutes.

The obligatory charity donation for their tickets had been paid as they entered, Louis wanting to cry about the state of the industry when the girl in the booth had offered him a receipt so he could expense it. It was ten quid each, which went to a good cause, and yet his colleagues were still tightwads. The more free stuff you got the more you wanted, it seemed.

As their bags were checked going into the guest area Louis looked around, trying to spot someone he could hang out with who wasn’t a couple like Zayn and Liam. It wasn’t that he didn’t love Liam, it wasn’t that he begrudged him this happiness, but he was lonely and missing Harry and it just wasn’t fair.

The bar and seats in front of it were pretty empty though, too early for everyone to have crawled on site from their hotels. Just a few lowly people straggling in from guest camping, pausing for a sausage and egg bap from the burger van before they headed out into the site proper for a final day of music. There was a kid by the press tent, barbour jacket and skinny jeans, green wellies splattered with mud. He had a beanie pulled down over his hair, and his face down, so Louis couldn’t even tell if he recognised him, but in his desperation he almost went over to start up a conversation anyway.

“Louis fucking Tomlinson!” The shout startled Louis, like an electric shock to his already tattered nerves. Nick. One could always count on Nick to be bright eyed and bushy tailed where he had no right to be. He turned, seeing the ridiculous quiff and wide grin of one of his oldest industry friends. His heart soared.

“Nicholas fucking Grimshaw! If you aren’t a sight for sore eyes.” They crashed together in a hug, Louis tucked into the taller man’s chest in a way he would never admit out loud felt really good. He loved to be cocooned in his friend’s arms, the smell of fresh laundry and a slight whiff of stale smoke surrounding him.

“Babes, where the fuck were you last night?” Louis just shrugged, not really wanting to admit he had been getting drunk with Liam and pining over a boy rather than at one of the biggest industry events of the year. Nick was still rambling, telling Louis all about bands he had seen and things their mutual friend’s had done, but Louis was lost in Harry again. It had been four days now, four Harryless days which may as well have been a year. He didn’t even care that it was pathetic anymore, he just wanted the boy back beside him, carrying pastries and smelling of citrus and desire.

“Lou, are you even listening?” Nick was prodding him in his stomach, drawing him out of his thoughts and back to the sights and sounds of the guest bar where they were now waiting for coffees.

“Yeah yeah, sorry I was miles away, bit of a hangover.” He handed over a ten pound note to pay for their drinks, dismissing Nick and his claims to have more drinks tokens than he knew what to do with. Those could be put to better use later.

“Listen. This kid. The one I was just talking about?” Louis was lost but nodded and smiled in the hopes it seemed like he knew what Nick was on about. “You should meet him. Think he’s totally your type, even if he does have that other fella.”

“Uhh..” Louis wasn’t sure what to say. How do you tell someone that while you are technically single you emotionally very much are not and really don’t want to be set up with some kid they got drunk with the night before?

“You’ll meet him later. We’re all watching Years and Years. You’re coming. No choice.” Nick was dragging him back to Liam and Zayn who had claimed a picnic table in the sun.

Five hours of sun and laughter later and Louis was almost enjoying himself. There was still a nagging emptiness in his heart where there should be curls and green eyes and pastries, but he was doing a fairly good job of filling it with music and friends and cider.

“Mr PR man!” Nick was crowing at someone over Louis’ shoulder. Louis just rolled his eyes and went back to his cider. Nick knew everyone it seemed, this was the tenth person he had tried to drag into their group in the past hour alone.

A familiar laugh rang out, tugging at the back of Louis’ slightly drunk consciousness. There was a familiarity there, someone he had met before at some event most likely. Nick had jumped off the bench he was sat on and was rounding the table, drinks tokens in hand, dragging the newcomer to the bar to help him with drinks.

“I think we should keep him.” Fiona was musing to whoever was sat beside her. “Lou, Nick wants to set you up with him, did he say?” Louis just rolled his eyes again.

“Yeah he did, Fi. Not really in the mood to be honest.” Liam scoffed beside him, opening his mouth to speak before Louis even had a chance to step on his foot to stop him.

“Louis' in love, Fi.” Louis glared, hoping he could get the warning through by thought alone. He wasn’t above tackling Liam if it proved necessary.

“Fellas! Budge up!” Saved by the Nick. “Make some space for our new young’un.” The person who had just invaded Louis’ space was wearing a very worn barbour jacket and a red beanie. Louis huffed as he budged up, trying to not take his annoyance out on this kid who was probably new to the industry, who seemed to be camping from his attire anyway (unlike the others who were all dressed up and clearly staying in places with walls and roofs) and wasn’t high enough up to warrant a hotel room.

The kid turned to Louis, a drink in his outstretched hand. The drink fell to the floor as the man’s mouth hung open in shock. As Harry’s mouth hung open in shock.

“Louis?” “Harry?” They both spoke at once. Beer sloshed over Louis’ already muddy trainers, but he didn’t even notice. He had eyes for one thing only, and that was the tired, dirty, and yet stunningly beautiful vision of a boy in front of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeep


	15. Day 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The reaction to yesterday has been insane, thank you all so very much 
> 
> Enjoy  
> Sxxx

Harry woke up to soft sheets and a pile of duvet and pillows, sun streaming through his windows, where for the past few days it had been canvas and sleeping bags and a slowly deflating air bed. This was what heaven felt like. It took a few seconds to remember his confusion and heavy heart of the day before, feelings that persisted despite Louis having offered him a ride back to London the previous evening, despite Louis having let him sleep on his shoulder all the way home as his hands carded through Harry’s hair. Despite it all his overwhelming feeling was confusion.

As he made coffee for himself, the bank holiday giving him an excuse to lie around the house and not have to face Louis again, he thought back to the previous day. Louis’ initial excitement at seeing Harry had quickly been masked behind calculated indifference. It had broken Harry’s heart.

Was Louis ashamed of him? Surrounded by all his industry friend who Harry barely knew, was he ashamed to have been flirting with an intern? It just didn’t seem like the man Harry thought he knew. Obviously that was stupid, Louis was just some guy who brought him coffee occasionally on the tube. Harry had clearly been massively projecting, assuming Louis was someone he wasn’t.

It was the moments that caused his confusion though. If Louis had just ignore him he could have understood, squared it away. But the moments, the moments killed him. When Harry had been talking at the table and had turned to see Louis looking at him like he had hung the sun, the look there for just a moment before the shutters fell and Louis was a stranger once again. When they had been stood watching Years and Years and Louis’s hand had found his during Shine, had squeezed so hard Harry felt his bones creak, before it was gone so quick Harry could almost think he had hallucinated. When Nick had been teasing Harry about ‘his boy’ after the band, and Louis had looked so pained that Harry nearly went to him to check he was ok. That wasn’t his place though. Nor was it his place to question why Louis’ friend kept elbowing him and giving meaningful looks in Harry’s direction.

The worst was when Liam, as Louis’ friend introduced himself, insisted they give Harry a lift home in their taxi, and insisted Louis and Harry sit next to each other. Louis had stood to one side with his arms crossed as Zayn and Liam helped Harry pack up his tent, refusing to look in Harry’s direction. In the car it hadn’t taken long for Harry to drift off, fitting into the curve of Louis’ shoulder that wasn’t his anymore, allowing himself to pretend one last time. As he slid in and out of sleep he was aware of the hands playing with his hair, brushing it from his face, of gentle kisses being pressed into the top of his head. That was the worst by far.

Just as Louis woke Harry to let him out at his tube stop, Harry swore he had heard Louis whisper a sorry into his hair, a sorry that just confused Harry further.

Now, as he sipped his coffee he tried his best to forget Louis, planning different train times for the next morning, and tidying away his baking books which had been out last week in anticipation of baking for Louis.

He checked his phone, going into his contacts to look through the new industry people he had met during the weekend, mostly through Nick. Maybe someone would have a job for him before Merlin was able, maybe someone would give him a different work schedule than the one he was currently struggling with, one that didn’t have him running into Louis each morning. Of course he was going to probably run into Louis soon at some industry event, but with enough time he could be professional.

A new entry caught his eye, Louis’ name in his phone. He knew he hadn’t added it, knew he hadn’t spoken to Louis enough to have even asked, knew he wouldn’t have humiliated himself like that.

There was a note in with the name and number, as Harry scrolled to the bottom of the entry.

_Nick told me you have someone Harry. I’m so sorry if i’ve made you uncomfortable. I can’t let you go without giving you the choice though._

Hope blossomed, raging through Harry like wildfire, scouring all the sadness and disappointment from his soul. He thumbed back to the top of the entry, thumb hovering between call and text for a moment before he hit text.

**You are the someone, you absolute idiot.**

_What? Harry??_ The reply was instant

 **You are the someone.** He repeated, taking a few deep breaths before opening the text again, fingers shaking slightly as he typed out a new message.

**What cake do you want in the morning?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry ... because I changed yesterday I had to kind of change today's to get myself back on track, which is why we got momentarily sad Harry and Louis. It's all ok though <3


	16. Day 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so so much for the huge reaction to yesterday, I'm not ashamed to say I have been on cloud nine today <33
> 
> Today's update is sweetness and flirting with a smidgen of implied filth thrown in
> 
> Enjoy   
> Sx

Louis was early again. After making a twat of himself at the weekend, he didn’t want Harry to have a doubt in his mind about Louis’ intentions, and so was standing on the platform at Harry’s stop, waiting, feeling more and more stupid with each passing moment. He had coffees in his hands, and his phone in his back pocket half hoping Harry would continue the nearly constant conversation they had been having since yesterday, but more hoping the other boy would be early too.

Finally he saw curls and long limbs and a bright smile coming towards his, before he was enveloped in a bone crushing hug. The coffees nearly went flying but Louis really couldn’t have given a shit. Harry’s arms felt made for him, the slight height difference giving Louis that feeling of being cocooned that he loved so much.

Harry pulled back too quickly, just as Louis was contemplating giving up on work entirely and just staying on the platform hugging Harry forever. His grin was broad, deep dimples puckering his cheeks as his eyes lit up at the sight of Louis. It was something Louis wished he could keep forever, that look. If he were a painter or a photographer he thought he’d spend his entire career trying to capture something even close to as beautiful.

Their train pulled in and the two of them piled on, managing to grab the last seats in the carriage. As they settled in Louis passed over the obligatory coffee (an americano today, Harry had eventually told Louis he wasn’t actually a fan of milk in his coffee) and Harry handed over a tupperware that felt heavy and loaded with possibility. As Louis cracked the lid the scent of lemons filled his nose, heady and fresh and summery.

“Lemon polenta cake.” Harry happily informed him as Louis pulled the lid off fully, finding three slices in the box. He quirked an eyebrow at Harry, questioning. Harry took the box, taking his own slice and giving one to Louis, before offering the last to the girl across from him, who gratefully accepted it with a smile and a wink to Louis. Her bag held boots today, dark blue glitter covering their surface. Louis reckoned it’d be enough to make anyone happy, wearing shoes like those. He grinned back, happy she had been right last week, happy he had Harry back beside him. Nothing could stop him smiling today.

He bit into the cake and couldn’t help the noises he made, ones that made Harry blush like a school girl. That just made Louis up his game even more and exaggerate the noises, earning him a playful swat to his arm. The cake was delicious, moist and light and zingy with juice and zest. Harry was a genius.

“Best thing I’ve put in my mouth in months.” He swallowed, sipping his coffee which didn’t really go with the cake, but which was sorely needed after he and Harry had stayed up texting until two am.

“Oh really?” Harry’s eyebrows raised suggestively at Louis, making him choke on his coffee slightly. There was something dark and promising in Harry’s look, and it was a promise Louis desperately wanted him to keep.

“You have a filthy mind young Styles. I was talking food.” Louis could feel himself blushing at Harry’s insinuation.

“Who says I wasn’t? You’re the one who read that as filthy, Lou.” Harry’s tone was the picture of innocence, until he winked, he actually winked. Louis was entirely and utterly fucked, this boy would be the death of him.

Soon Harry was drifting, their late night conversation clearly taking it’s toll on him too. This time, however, Louis didn’t have to wait for him to fall onto his shoulder, this time he could guide Harry to his rightful spot. He could card his fingers through Harry’s hair, he could trace patterns into the soft skin at the back of Harry’s neck, he could watch the boy as he slept and not feel like a creep. They’d discussed it the day before, it was mutual this strange instant attraction, and Louis could feel something hot and bright bubbling in his chest at the very thought of it.

Five stops later Louis was gently waking Harry with soft words whispered into his ear. The look Harry gave him as he woke could only be described as reverential. Their gaze held, something important unsaid between them, before Harry leaned up and pressed a chaste kiss into the corner of Louis mouth. Before Louis could respond, could pull Harry back into a display of affection that definitely wasn’t tube appropriate, the train stopped and Harry was up, being carried away by the crowd.

Louis sat in a daze until his stop, fingers lightly tracing the spot where Harry had kissed him, as if he could capture the feeling, hold on to it and keep it for rainy days.

His pocket vibrated as he walked to the circle line platform, a text from Harry;

**  
It's my mission to keep trying to put better things in your mouth... promise x**


	17. Day 17

Wednesday dawned too quickly. Harry had hardly slept, thinking about Louis, thinking about their near constant text conversations. The industry was small and gossipy, and their interaction hadn’t gone unnoticed. Merlin and Lewis had been teasing Harry constantly as soon as they had seen Louis’ name come up on his phone when he had left it unattended for five minutes to run a load of CDs through the franking machine. He’d come back into the office to an afternoon where love songs had dominated the office playlist.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about it. He and Louis existed in a bubble of their morning interactions, and he didn’t know how to cope with it being exposed to the world. By Tuesday evening, when he left the office and had run into Mark from the management firm who had offices upstairs, it seemed everyone knew. Mark had teased him mercilessly, joking about budding Reading romances and asking how they met. That was the one thing Harry was able to keep to himself, using Nick as an excuse, but how long that could last was anyone's guess.

Now however, now he could have his twenty minutes in his bubble with Louis, just the two of them, with no one to question them or look at them or wonder. He stood waiting for the train, waiting for the doors to open and for him to see Louis’ crinkly delighted smile. He couldn’t wait for Louis to taste what he had baked today, to watch Louis’ face light up and listen to the noises he made.

Finally, after what felt like years, the train pulled in and there was Louis. Radiating light. As Harry settled in beside Louis he couldn’t help but feel bashful, in the presence of this man he had spoken to so much via text, but had yet to spend any real length of time with. It was easy to confess to much, to fall too hard, when you were hiding behind words on a screen. The warmth that radiated from Louis put him at ease though, calming his heartbeat for just a second before the older man leaned in and pressed a kiss into Harry’s temple, sending his heart flying back into his throat.

“Morning.” Louis grinned. “Whatever you brought smells amazing, Haz.” The nickname did nothing to calm him as he shyly turned towards Louis and handed over the box. It contained scones, freshly baked and filled with butter and jam, clotted cream not obtainable at short notice at the corner shop.

Louis looked tentative as he opened the box, and Harry’s heart fell, the rollercoaster of being with Louis just hitting the point where he was in freefall, not quite knowing if the safety bar would hold him. It was silly, worrying so much about whether Louis liked his baking, but he didn’t want to let Louis down, and this felt scarily like he might have done so. He watched, not even breathing, as Louis took a small bite, chewing for a second before his whole face lit up.

“How the fuck do you even do this Curly?” Louis punctuated his question by tugging on one of Harry’s curls, and it was all he could do to not lean into the touch and physically purr.

“Hate scones, usually. They’re dry and heavy and a waste of a cake. You’re magic I swear.” Louis grinned at Harry as he took another bigger bite of his scone. The butterflies in Harry’s stomach settled to the normal frenzy they were in when he was around Louis, or got a text from Louis, or thought of Louis.

“‘M glad you like them. The secret is in not working the dough much and using a tiny bit of lemon juice in the milk.” Harry smiled as he sipped his coffee, settling into his seat further, leaning slightly against the man beside him. He could feel warmth radiating from Louis, and mixed with the almond scent of his skin and the rich smell of coffee, Harry was utterly intoxicated.

“As always that means nothing to me, but never stop explaining. Love watching you talk about baking, you’re so passionate.” Louis’ cheeks burned with a blush at his confession, and Harry just wanted to reach up and touch the skin, see if it was as hot as it looked. A sudden realisation that he was able to saw him leaning forwards, planting a soft kiss on Louis’ cheekbone. The skin was soft and warm and a buzz of electricity met Harry’s touch. He murmured a ‘thank you’ into the kiss.

“You take charming to a whole new level, Styles.” Louis ducked his head and smiled at his coffee cup, whole face now pink to the tips of his ears.

The sway of the train soon rocked Harry into sleep, curling up into Louis like a cat. Soft kisses to the top of his head, and a thumb tracing patterns into his wrist, were the last things Harry was aware of before he succumbed to the blackness. There was a voice at the back of his head shouting desperately at him to stay awake, so savour every moment with Louis, but sleep won out.

Louis woke him, as usual, with soft touches and even softer words. He held out Harry’s coffee, now cold, but Harry smiled in thanks all the same. It was Louis who instigated the kiss this time, a gentle press of warm lips onto Harry’s forehead, and a whispered ‘have a good day love’ making Harry’s heart jackhammer in his chest all over again. He wondered if Louis had noticed the change in Harry’s pulse where his thumb still drew circles on his wrist.

Harry was walking on cloud nine as he left the tube, not sure anything could make his day better. Then his phone buzzed twice in quick succession. Two texts, one from Louis, one from Merlin.

Louis: _Forgot to ask you to keep Friday free. I want to wine and dine you x_

 **  
**Merlin: **Good news H. We got the Bella Union contract. Can take you on full time. Talk more when you get in but drinks friday to celebrate?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I disagree with Louis when it come to scones... just FYI. Although most ones you get in shops I agree with him on haha


	18. Day 18

Harry’s croissants were stressed. He had got home from work the night before and started the long and complicated process of making croissants for Louis from scratch, and they were stressed. His mum had always told him to not bake unhappy, and you impart it into the food, but he had needed a distraction from worrying about letting either Merlin or Louis down, and now he had stressed croissants.

Niall assured him they tasted fine, delicious even, as he had stuffed one into his mouth at the kitchen table this morning. Niall would likely eat anything though, so it wasn’t exactly the reassurance Harry needed. The last thing he wanted to do was offer Louis a stressed croissant. He didn’t want Louis to know about his stress, at least not at least until he was certain of his choice one way or the other. One bite of these croissants was sure to alert him however.

The doors opened to the tube and Louis beamed at him from within, filling Harry with even more stress and worry over his choice and over his croissants. He tried to smile back, but could feel that it wasn’t meeting his eyes, that it was slightly lopsided, that his dimple didn’t quite work.

“Hey, love” Louis’ voice was soft and gentle and soothing, a balm to his sleep deprived nerves. “What’s up? You look extra tired today.” Louis’ thumb traced the bags under Harry’s eyes, before he leaned in and placed a soft kiss under the left one. Harry hummed, couldn’t help himself leaning into the calming touch.

“Just a late night. Few things on at work.” It was a half truth, and even that much ate Harry up inside. The last thing he wanted to do was start off whatever this was with Louis by lying. He needed to talk to Merlin asap. In the excitement of the new job yesterday he hadn’t felt able to say he wouldn’t be free on Friday. It seemed rude and churlish to turn down the man he worked with, who was his friend, when he had just been given a job with a far better starting salary than he had hoped for. He would be turning him down though, just as soon as he got to work today. Louis was more important. Finally spending some time with Louis was more important. Finally, hopefully, properly kissing Louis was far more important.

“So, what treats have you brought for me today, H?” Louis tugged him back into the present with a hand on his thigh and a coffee being offered over. Harry’s nervousness over the stressed croissants returned in full force. He handed over the paper bag, noticing it trembling as his hand shook. This really was ridiculous, and if Harry was being honest with himself it definitely wasn’t about the croissants.

“Mmm croissants. Fab! Didn’t have time to bake last night?” Louis tugged on one of Harry’s curls as he grinned, not realising he had either just complimented or insulted Harry greatly.

“Oh. No. I... I uhhh, I made them myself.” Harry stuttered, amazed at the affect this wonderful boy could have on him. The more they spoke, the more he found out about Louis, the more terrified he was that he was going to fuck something up. Louis was everything he wanted, witty, beautiful, intelligent, and he could tease Harry like nobodies business which for some unknown reason seemed to turn Harry on (as his aching wrist could attest this past week).

Louis narrowed his eyes at Harry in suspicion, before opening the bag and drawing out a croissant. He held it up to the light, inspecting it from all angles as Harry’s heart leapt into his mouth and his bottom lip was worried between his teeth.

“I’m not sure I believe you, Curly. It looks way too pretty and fluffy to be homemade.” Louis winked, raising his hand to pull Harry’s lip out from where he was biting it. He then took a bite of the offending croissant, letting his head fall back and his eyes flutter closed as he chewed. The sounds Louis made were ones Harry desperately wanted to be hearing in private. They would be fuelling his fantasies for months to come even if this odd relationship ever became more than meets on a train and endless texts.

“That is the best croissant I’ve ever had. No more buying me ones from shops for you, not now I know you can do this!” Louis bopped Harry’s nose with one buttery finger before he licked it obscenely into his mouth, and it dragged Harry sharply back to the first day they had shared food on the train, only now he was allowed to stare, now he could even capture one of Louis’ fingers in his mouth and suck it himself, if he wanted.

Relief washed over Harry as he watched Louis eat, slowly sipping on his own coffee as Louis let out little happy moans around his food. Apparently his stress hadn’t transferred to the food, hadn’t tainted it. It didn’t mean he didn’t need to deal with the source of it though.

“Louis?” Harry was aware he had dragged out the word, almost into a whine, his nerves playing havoc with his already drawling speech pattern. Louis nodded at him, smiling happily around the lid of his coffee. “Merlin offered me a full time job yesterday.” He rushed it out, watching as Louis’ eyes grew wide, lighting up in joy.

Before he knew it Harry was engulfed in a hug, one made only slightly awkward by the arm of the seats between them. Kisses were being littered into his hair, and he couldn’t help but preen at the attention Louis was showing him.

“‘M so proud of you!” Louis murmured as he pulled away slightly, breaking the hug but keeping their faces so close that if Harry just reached out slightly he could be kissing Louis.

“One thing. He and Lewis want to take me for drinks on Friday to celebrate.” Harry watched Louis’ face fall from close up, it lasted just a second before he schooled his expression, twisting it into a thoughtful one instead.

“Well, much as I want to pretend I’m not a possessive twat, I’d be lying.” Louis rested his forehead against Harry’s as he spoke, Harry more aware of the movement of his lips than of the actual sounds. “I really want you all to myself, but I get it, H.”

“Want to see you too, I really do.” Their eyes met, Harry hoped Louis could read the sincerity there.

“I’ve known Merlin for a while, he’s not a bad guy. Just tell him you already have plans, he’ll be ok with it.” Louis sounded so sure, so convinced, that Harry almost felt it too. A weight lifted from him, either from sharing or from Louis being right, he wasn’t sure.

“Now, my little sleepy one,” Louis was thumbing the purpled skin under Harry’s eyes again, softly like he might break Harry, “Get your forty winks while you can, eh?”

Harry was tucked under Louis’ arm, into the space that he thought of as his already. The heady scent of Louis filled his mind, almonds and vanilla and boy. Fingers in his hair and gentle kisses on his forehead lulled him into dreams where Louis was his to sleep on every night.


	19. Day 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, if you don't like reading smut stop at the 
> 
> \---
> 
> Just assume they have sexy times and it's cute <3
> 
> If you like reading smut then enjoy...
> 
> Sxxx

Louis watched as Harry’s eyes slowly closed in anticipation, his lips pouting out slightly in a way that shouldn’t make Louis feel like a teenager, but most definitely did. He cupped Harry’s face with one hand, turning him slightly so the dying sunlight hit his face just so. Harry was an angel and he, Louis Tomlinson, was about to have the chance to kiss him. With a deep breath and a flutter of nerves he moved in, finally slotting his lips against Harry’s properly for the first time. They fit like puzzle pieces.

It had been a long day of anticipation. From their train ride together this morning, shorter than usual as it was a Friday and Harry got off early, through the constant texts that sent champagne bubbles fizzing through Louis’ blood at every notification, to the obligatory stressing with Liam after work about how Louis would inevitably fuck this up, and now finally he was here, kissing Harry, feeling every stress and worry melt away in the face of pillow soft lips that tasted of cherries.

Dinner had been quiet and focused, Louis hardly able to take his eyes off Harry as he ate his pasta and drank his wine. All of Louis’ usual defense mechanisms of being too loud or too obnoxious so people didn’t bother to look past it to see the real him? They all seemed to vanish when he was with this boy. He wanted Harry to see the real him, wanted to be vulnerable and open himself up, trusted Harry already to keep what he found there a secret.

It should be terrifying, should make him want to run away and hide and never come out. It wasn’t that Louis was scared of feelings or of commitment, but rather that the intensity of his emotions towards Harry when he hardly knew him would be enough to scare even the most pro-monogamy person off. With Harry though it just felt natural. Louis wasn’t tempted to over analyse things when he was with Harry. Ok he might do that in the dark of his bedroom when they weren’t together, but with Harry here it seemed impossible and unnecessary.

The kiss broke, gentle and warm and open, just like Harry. The gasps and moans that Harry had been making died away, leaving Louis bereft and needy. He wanted Harry so badly, wanted every part of him, mind body and soul. It was a lot.

The tube journey home was strange. The two of them sat beside each other on the tube shouldn’t feel strange anymore, but doing it in reverse, without coffee, in the shadows of evening rather than the clear safe light of day, it felt heavy with possibility. Their knees knocked against each other, their fingers tangled, Harry leaned into Louis and melted against him. It was all Louis could do to not ravish him in public.

When they got closer to Harry’s stop he could feel the boy tensing beside him. They hadn’t discussed what happened now. They date had been perfect, the kisses sublime, but he didn’t want to push Harry. Didn’t ever want to ask for more than Harry was willing to give, even if he wanted everything from him. Anticipation and unsaid words thrummed between them like electricity.

Louis held Harry’s hand tighter, mentally willing him not to go, not to leave Louis. Harry turned towards him, a glimmer of hope in his green eyes, questioning Louis and his intentions. Louis couldn’t help himself when he leaned forwards to catch Harry in anther kiss, one that was deeper and more needy than the ones that had gone before.

“Stay with me?” He whispered, half hoping Harry wouldn’t hear him but unable to stop himself laying his soul bare at Harry’s feet.

Harry’s hand squeezed his, a happy hum escaping his lips as he leaned back into the kiss.

“Thought you’d never ask.” The tension broke, laughter replacing it, quickly followed by the need for the train to hurry the fuck up.

\---

The walk home was the cliche of a late summer evening, sky fading into purples and pinks across the horizon, air still warm on their skin. And yet Louis had goosebumps everywhere Harry touched him.

The conversation was light, insignificant, but filled with expectation and questions. What was this? Where was it going? What would happen when they got behind closed doors? Harry kept squeezing Louis’ hand slightly, running his thumb over the back of it, constant motion to distract from the nerves Louis was sure he was feeling too.

Finally they were at the door to Louis’ flat. He fumbled with his keys, barely able to get them in the lock. He pulled Harry in, pushing him against the door as soon as it was closed. Need washed over Louis, the floodgates finally failing him entirely as the full force of his emotions, of his want, hit him.

The kiss was filthy but still soft. Harry was so responsive, the sounds he made spurring the fire in Louis’ belly on to become a raging inferno.

“‘ve wanted you for so long.” Harry was the first to talk, to break the quiet of the hallway with words.

“You’ve got me.” It was a cliche answer but Louis’ brain impeded by the sudden rush of blood to his cock. It wasn’t fair to expect him to function properly when he had Harry Styles pressed against his front door. Harry Styles who was wearing impossibly tight black jeans and a shirt that was far too sheer to be decent. Harry Styles who was littered with more tattoos than Louis had imagined even in his darkest fantasies. Harry Styles who was pushing his hips back into Louis’. Harry Styles who was clearly rock hard and clearly hung.

Louis’ mouth was suddenly watering, the thought of getting to touch, suck, tease Harry was too much. His own cock pressed heavily against the zip of his trousers, almost painful with how much he needed the boy in front of him. He pressed the heel of his hand against himself, seeking any sort of relief, but when he looked up at Harry he realised it was entirely futile. harry looked debauched. His hair hung messily around his face, curls already tinged with sweat. His cheeks were flushed and pink. His lips looked like he had already been sucking Louis’ cock for hours, rather than just kissing for ten minutes. It was his eyes that really did Louis in though. The pupils were blown so wide he could hardly make out the green that was usually so bright and inescapable. They fluttered closed, eyelashes sitting darkly on his cheeks. Louis had never wanted to wreck someone so badly.

“Harry?” The other boys eyes opened again, staring at Louis through those infernal eyelashes. “Can I..?” Louis moved his hands to the waistband of Harry’s jeans, hoping his desires were conveyed clearly.

“Please.” Harry’s voice broke on the word, need clear at the forefront of his inflection. It was all the confirmation Louis needed. He sunk to his knees, right there in the hallway, pressing his face against the hardness of Harry’s crotch.

“Lou?” Louis looked up at the boy, feeling a moment of triumph as Harry moaned at the sight of Louis on his knees for him. “Fuck. Not here. Not in the hallway. Too much, too special. Please?”

The words didn’t make much sense, but Louis got the idea, and agreed for the most part. He wanted this to be special too, knew it had to be because it was Harry. It was just that getting off his knees, moving away from Harry for even a second when he just wanted to be sucking Harry’s cock? That was a lot to ask.

Harry pulled Louis up, sounding just as lost and broken as Louis at the loss of pressure against his cock. Louis dragged him bodily into the bedroom, not even bothering to switch on lights before he was pushing Harry to sit on the bed and sinking back onto his knees in front of him. Harry was fumbling on the bedside table, Louis wasn’t sure what for, he had a mission and it involved making Harry make more of those pretty noises he made when they kissed.

Just as he pulled Harry free from his jeans the bedside lamp was switched on, illuminating Louis with a warm glow.

“Want to see you, Lou. Fuck you look so good, on your knees for me.” Harry was rambling, his deep slow drawl making Louis even harder in his trousers. He almost reached down to touch himself, but just as he was about to Harry cupped Louis’ face in his hand and tipped it upward.

“Fuck, look at you. So ready to suck my cock aren’t you? Want me so bad?” Harry thumbed along Louis’ lower lip, gathering the wetness from where Louis had been licking his lips in anticipation. Louis could only stare dumbstruck as Harry pushed the thumb into Louis’ mouth and told him to suck. Louis did so, enthusiastically, but he wanted more, needed more, needed Harry.

“Harry.” He whined around the thumb, hearing the desperation in his own voice. If he didn’t get his mouth on Harry soon he might die. Harry let out a quiet laugh, one tinged with amazement at the situation they were in.

“Yeah, love. Please.” He finally released Louis’ face, letting him drop down to where he needed to be. Louis pressed his face against Harry’s crotch once more, nuzzling against the hard cock that lay against Harry’s stomach. Harry smelled of musk and sex, just a hint of the citrus smell he had in the mornings left on his skin. Louis’ mouth watered again, forcing him to swallow heavily before he finally finally was able to take Harry in his mouth.

Harry’s cock was hard and heavy on his tongue, filling his mouth so much it stretched slightly. Louis would be feeling the stretch for days and the thought thrilled him. There was pre-come on his tongue, salty and sweet and perfect. He pressed down, taking as much as Harry as he could before his cock was pressing at the back of Louis’ throat. His hand covered what he couldn’t take, twisting and squeezing as his tongue and mouth worked the head.

“Fuck Louis. Fucking hell. More please, move, more. Louis, Louis, Lou.” Louis looked up at Harry again, watching as the other man’s pupils dilated even further at the sight of Louis’ mouth filled with his cock. Louis teased, he pulled off, kitten lapping at the head, listening to the moan that ripped from Harry’s chest.

“What d’you want H? Tell me what you like.” He lazily ran his tongue up the underside of Harry’s cock, still watching every reaction. Harry’s thighs jumped and jerked under his jeans, his hands twisted into the bedclothes beside him as he tried to control his hips, his head was thrown back in a moan, lips parted and wet. Teasing was bad for Louis’ heart it seemed, if it was going to have Harry looking like this, looking like pure sin.

“Want you...” Harry gritted out, pausing to take a deep breath before he could continue. “Want you to suck me. Please. Want to fuck your mouth.”

Louis grinned up at the boy, before looking back down at his very pretty cock.

“Fucking love your cock.” And he hadn’t meant to say that, hadn’t meant to let that one slip out, but his brain to mouth filter was slightly shot.

Rather than watching Harry’s reaction to his confession, Louis took him back into his mouth, gratified when Harry moaned so loudly Louis thought he might have to send an apology note to his downstairs neighbour.

Harry was wriggling his jeans down his thighs, distracting Louis from the task in hand with the perfect creamy whiteness of them. Louis wanted to mark them, no, needed to mark them. He breathed through his nose and took Harry deeper, trying to distract himself from the thought of Harry’s thighs covered in love bites, covered in the evidence that he was Louis’ and Louis was his. It was far too early for that kind of possessiveness.

Harry’s hips canted up slightly, pushing himself against the back of Louis’ throat. Louis groaned, could feel the way Harry responded to it from how the cock in his mouth jerked, more pre-come coating his tastebuds.

“Fuck my mouth” He pulled off for a second, panting around the words as he looked up at his boy. It was all the encouragement Harry needed it seemed, as before Louis could even take him all the way back down Harry had his hands in Louis’ hair and was pushing his hips up. Louis loved it, loved the feeling of Harry pressing deeper into him. He swallowed as Harry hit this throat again, gratified by the shout of pleasure Harry gave above him.

Harry’s thighs were shaking, his whole body tense and needy, Louis looked up again, through heavily hooded eyes. He tried to let Harry know it was ok, that he could let go, that Louis wanted him to. There was a moment when their eyes met, calm for a second before Harry was shaking apart, spilling himself into Louis’ mouth as he fell back against the bed. It was like his strings had been cut, like he couldn’t even hold himself upright against the force of his orgasm. The noises he made were a symphony, a masterpiece. Louis wanted to record them, release it as a record, surefire number one smash hit. And ok, maybe he needed more oxygen and less blood pumping heavily through his own neglected cock.

He swallowed, savouring every last drop of Harry as he pulled off, panting as he tried to catch his breath. Suddenly so very aware of how hard he was he pulled off his shirt and pushed down his own jeans, seeking relief as he palmed over his cock.

A disgruntled sound came from the bed, where Harry was struggling to sit up, to try and make his muscles work again.

“Mine.” It was the only word Harry seemed to be able to force out but the only one Louis needed. His cock jerked needily at the sound, before Harry had somehow pulled Louis round and pushed him onto his back on the bed.

“Gonna blow you, Lou.” Harry’s voice was lazy and fucked out, the drawl even more prominent than usual. Louis wanted to hear him like that all the time.

Harry’s hand wrapped around Louis’ aching cock, dragging the pre-come that soaked him down his length.

“So fucking wet. Did it turn you on? Making me come? Having me fuck your throat?” It seemed Harry could recover the power of speech pretty quickly. Louis got lost for a second imagining all the things he could do to try and render Harry speechless. He was drawn back to reality by Harry’s mouth on his cock, and oh fuck, he wasn’t going to last long.

“Harry.” He moaned the name, lost in the sensations of Harry’s talented mouth. “Fuck, H. So much, gonna make me...” Louis was falling, breaking apart under Harry’s ministrations. He couldn’t even be embarrassed at how quickly he had come, not when Harry looked so proud of himself, not when Harry’s cock was already twitching interestedly at the sight of Louis coming. Not when Harry was pulling off him and licking his lips like he had tasted the finest champagne and wanted to savour every drop.

“So fucking pretty, Lou.” Harry dropped his body beside Louis, snuggling into him with kisses and touches and warm puffs of breath on Louis’ skin.

They lay there for long moments, curled up against each other, slotted together like they belonged. Louis knew it was too soon, knew he shouldn’t be feeling this way already, but with Harry beside him, fucked out and pliant, smelling of sex and of Louis’ cologne, it was impossible to pretend. Louis was arse over tit already, and it didn’t scare him, not one bit.


	20. Day 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late and sorry it's short... I have been ill all day with my epilepsy playing up, and it's very hard to concentrate on a screen when I feel like this
> 
> Hope it's not too dreadful  
> Sx

Harry woke up with Louis wrapped around him, arms and legs so entwined it was hard to tell where he stopped and Louis started. The sunlight that was filtering through Louis’ curtains was catching on their skin, Louis looked like someone had scattered diamonds all over him, he seemed to glow. Harry still couldn’t quite believe this was real, that last night had happened, that he was really here in Louis’ bed wrapped around this sleeping angel.

At any moment he expected himself to wake up, in his own bed, with Niall banging pots and pans in the kitchen. Instead Louis snuffled his face into Harry’s shoulder and cuddled him tighter. He hoped they could stay frozen like this forever, in this moment. His bladder had other plans, however, and was screaming at him to leave his boy cocoon and deal with it. Sighing he gently moved Louis’ limbs from where they were pressed around Harry, and slipped out of the bed.

When he came back Louis was awake, blinking owlishly at him from the bed for a second before a grin engulfed his face. There were crinkles by the sides of Louis’ bright blue eyes, and just a hint of a dimple in his cheek. He was radiant.

“Get back here, Styles” Louis indicated the empty space beside him, patting it eagerly as if he could hurry up Harry’s return, when Harry was already practically sprinting across the room. He launched himself onto the bed, landing spread-eagled over Louis who just laughed breathlessly. Eventually they settled down into cuddles and touches and kisses. None of them contained intent, not right this moment anyway, more the desire to learn and explore each other, to catalogue it and remember it always.

An hour passed happily, conversation had lulled into comfortable silence and kisses pressed occasionally into whatever skin was closest. The moment was broken only by Louis’ stomach giving a loud protest at having been ignored for so long. Louis’ blush was the prettiest thing Harry had ever seen.

“You shower, I’ll try and whip us up something edible?” Louis leaned up, kissing Harry gently to punctuate his question, arms curling tighter for a second around Harry as if his body didn’t quite agree with his words.

“I can cook?” Harry offered, remembering Louis saying once that he could barely boil an egg.

“No, you get the morning off. Go get clean, it’s a good shower.” Louis pecked a kiss to the end of Harry’s nose, before extracting himself from Harry, leaving Harry cold and bereft.

The shower was good, relaxing Harry’s muscles and waking him up, he still wished he was in bed in Louis’ arms though, but he thought he might spend the rest of his life wishing he was in bed with Louis. When he finally got out he found Louis had left trackies and an old rolling stones t-shirt on the bed for him, along with clean boxers. There was something about dressing in Louis’ clothes that felt so intimate. They smelled of Louis, of the vanilla and almond softness that Harry had come to associate with sleepy mornings and pining over coffee angels.

Down the hall he could hear music drifting from the kitchen, leading him back towards his boy. He stood in the doorway, arrested by the sight that greeted him. There was Louis, in just tight black boxers, dancing about his kitchen. He was singing every word to the song that was playing, eyes closed as he seemed to feel the music.

Harry coughed lightly and Louis’ eyes opened. Their gaze met as Louis sung the next two lines directly to Harry, making his heart grow four sizes in his chest as he watched.

“Don't leave me behind, can you see me, I'm shining

And it's you that I've been waiting to find”


	21. Day 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry i missed yesterday. If you follow me on tumblr you will know I had a rough few days health wise, but I'm feeling a lot better and so here we go
> 
> There will hopefully be another chapter later. If not there will be two tomorrow... you'll get all 25 by Christmas day anyway :*
> 
> Enjoy  
> Sxx

Sunday afternoon brought sunshine and warm weather, one of those weekends that feels like the last one of the summer. It also brought Harry still sat in Louis’ kitchen, and a massive smile still on Louis’ face. Saturday breakfast had turned into a walk in Epping Forest which had turned into an early dinner which had turned into drinks in the pub with Liam and Zayn which had turned into quiet kisses and not wanting to let Harry go. So Louis simply hadn’t. He’d suggested Harry come to his instead as it was closer, and so he had earned the pleasure of sleeping curling around the taller man and the utter joy of waking up with his face buried in Harry’s curls.

They had wasted another morning in bed with soft touches and gentle kisses. Or spent it wisely, depending on your perspective. Harry had finally dragged them from their nest at half twelve, insisting they did something fun with their day. A quick brunch of avocado on toast with crispy pancetta had been whipped up by Harry and demolished by Louis, along with about a gallon of tea, and now Harry was standing at Louis’ door practically vibrating with excitement.

He was still wearing Louis’ clothes, a pair of jeans that were too short but which he had styled out by rolling them up even further so they hit mid calf, and the vintage shirt Louis had picked up a few weeks ago. Harry had fallen in love with it on first sight, Louis was never going to ask for it back. He looked delectable, and Louis considered it an injustice that they were going out, rather than spending the day with Louis exploring Harry’s calves and ankles further. It hadn’t been a kink before today but Harry’s outfit was enough to turn anyone. 

As soon as they were out the front door Harry was linking their hands, tangling their fingers together in a way that just fit. Harry’s hands were bigger, fingers long and lean compared to Louis’ more delicate ones, but when they twisted together it was like they were made for each other. Louis wasn’t normally a hand holder. He found it difficult and awkward to know where his hand should go, who should be on top, who should lead, but with Harry none of that seemed to matter.

They walked up towards Forrest Road where Harry led them towards a building Louis hadn’t really noticed before. It was broad and tall and looked to be Georgian, and there was a sign outside that indicated this was the William Morris Gallery. Harry’s palpable excitement just seemed to grow, until he was bouncing on the balls of his feet and grinning at Louis like he had just won the lottery.

“I love this place, Lou. He lived here, in this very house.” Harry’s eyes were lit up like bonfires, blazing with excitement at getting to show Louis the gallery. Louis so desperately wanted to share the excitement, to learn everything Harry wanted to teach, to soak him and his enthusiasm up like a sponge.

“Well I know nothing about him past the fact my mum used to have some flowery curtains of his, but teach me everything young Styles. I expect to be an expert by the time we leave.” Louis watched Harry’s face set into determination as he spoke, the younger man so delighted to have the chance to share his passions.

And hour and a half later and Louis knew more about woodblocks and tapestry and the arts and crafts movement than he ever thought he wanted to know. He had hung on every word, fascinated by Harry’s passion, not bored for a second. 

As they had wandered through the gardens of the house after, hand in hand, Harry had waxed lyrical about Morris’ political affiliations; how he had been a founder member of the British socialist movement and had been moved to help people less fortunate than himself after apprenticing in Staffordshire and seeing how ‘the other half lived’. 

It was wonderful, Harry was radiant, sharing something he cared about so much. It was much the same as how Louis knew he got when he discussed music. Be it an old band that had shaped his loves and likes or someone he had just discovered and saw massive potential in. Louis could talk for days given half a chance, had done at times when at four in the morning some idiot had made the mistake of giving him the floor and control of the playlist. 

They ended up in a pub, pints on the table between them as they chatted and laughed. Louis could barely believe he had got so lucky, could barely believe this wonderful boy was in his life.

“Oi! Tommo!” Liam’s shout broke their bubble, as he stumbled in from the beer garden with an empty jug of pimms in his hand. “It’s Pimms O’Clock and you fuckers best get out into the garden right now and join us.”

Laughter and hugs met them as they found Louis’ friends in a booth outside. The table was littered with bar snacks and empty glasses, and a cheer went up from everyone when Liam returned with a fresh jug.

“So,” Harry asked innocently, a gleam in his eye belying his tone, “how did you and Zayn meet?” 

It seemed Liam was too far away from Zayn to stop the other man from opening his mouth this time. Louis just looked between them like he was at a tennis match, intrigued by the sly look Zayn sported and the mortification that simultaneously crossed Liam’s face.

“Liam came to a photography show I was part of.” Zayn grinned wickedly.

“Are you a photographer?” Harry looked delighted, like a kid on Christmas morning.”

“Not exactly.” Zayn laughed uproariously, clearly tickled at the thought. “I was the model.”

There was a pause, one in which Louis saw his best friend steel himself for what was to come. This was clearly going to be good.

“I watched Liam drool over a close up of my cock for five minutes before I put him out of his misery by introducing myself.” Liam blushed scarlet at the words, face falling into his hands. 

“Put me out of my misery? Not sure that was exactly right. Made it worse maybe.” Liam was talking to the table, hands still over his face, barely audible over the laughter that shook their group.

When it had all died down Harry opened his mouth to speak.

“Zayn, maybe you could give me some... pointers? I’ve been wanting to get more into photography.” The squeeze he gave Louis’ thigh was pointed, meaningful, especially after the conversation that had just gone on. 

  
Louis thought his blush might possibly rival Liam’s.


	22. Day 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well look at that I caught up... sort of. Even if it's not technically the 22nd in my time zone anymore
> 
> Enjoy, see you all tomorrow  
> Sxxx

 

Monday dawned with Harry alone in his own bed, cold and bereft of Louis. It had only been two days that he had spent in the other boy’s bed, but it may as well have been a year for how his heart ached now. How was it possible to miss someone so much so quickly? To physically miss their presence beside you so much that you had laid awake not sleeping for the lack of them, and had woken clutching a pillow dreaming it was soft hair and almond scented skin?

He had come home last night, sensibly saying he needed to change his clothes and do some errands and sort some things for work. He had, after all, spent nearly 48 hours straight with Louis, and some distance was probably good for both of them. Except it wasn’t good. Harry knew intellectually that this was just the first throes of a crush, that honeymoon period where you just wanted to be with the other person all the time. But it  _ felt _ different. Deep down in his bones it felt like something new, something important, something real. 

And so he now found himself sat at the kitchen counter, bleary eyed and morose, missing his boy even though he would see him in half an hour on the train to work. This was Harry’s last week at the record shop. From next Monday he would be working full time for Merlin, meaning ten am starts rather than nine am, and likely a whole heap less Louis in his life. He knew, of course, that he would still see Louis, but it felt too soon to make a seismic change like this to their dynamic. What if Louis just drifted away when he wasn’t faced with seeing Harry every morning? What if he brought coffee for someone else on the tube? What if someone else  _ baked _ for Louis? 

“What’s up with you grumpy guts?” Niall’s cheerful voice cut through Harry’s annoyingly invasive worries. “You spend the whole weekend with Mr hot A&R man, who I have yet to meet by the way, and yet you have a face on like someone slapped your mum with a dead fish. Cheer up, Curls.”

Niall was right, of course. He often was, but Harry tried to not let on too often for fear of blondie getting too big for his boots. Harry had spent the most incredible weekend with the most incredible man, and yet here he was after just a few hours alone, stressing and worrying about things that would likely never happen. He needed to get a grip. And a move on. Harry was late.

“Shit fuck shit! I’m late, Nialler, pass me that box?” Harry was running out the door still buttoning his shirt, ending up with half the buttons still undone to his naval by the time he got to the tube. He was out of breath and his skin gleamed with sweat, but he thought he had made it. Their tube should be arriving in one minute. 

The doors opened to peace. To peace and calm and reassurance in the form of the gleaming boy in front of him. Louis honestly looked like he was lit from within, light spilling from his eyes and his skin glowing. It was a sight that Harry felt he would always remember, even in the darkest moments when his brain played tricks on him.

As soon as Harry was sat down Louis tangled their fingers together and gently pulled Harry into a kiss. Every nerve in his body settled at the chaste contact, the fizzing he had felt in his blood since leaving Louis gone. 

“Morning, love.” Louis murmured against Harry’s lips, before breaking the contact and leaving Harry wanting. They were in public and Harry wasn’t usually one for public kisses, especially on the tube, but when he was with Louis is was like a bubble formed around them and the rest of the world ceased to exist.

“Morning, baby.” Harry hadn’t meant the endearment to slip out, but the way Louis’ face lit up made him determined to use it more frequently.

“Double shot today, umm, I didn’t sleep well last night. Missed you, you know? Thought you might need extra caffeine too.” Louis was bashful but so wonderfully open. Harry wasn’t used to this from relationships. Usually he was the one to wear his heart on his sleeve, only to have it cruelly ripped off and stomped on. Louis seemed to be laying himself bare just as much as Harry, if not more. It was beautiful and slightly scary all at the same time.

“Thank you. I missed you too. It’s silly after two days but..” Harry trailed off, just shrugging when words failed him. He could hear the gratitude in his own voice at the coffee, at Louis’ thoughtfulness and at Louis opening up first so Harry could follow in safety. He just hoped Louis knew that he meant all of that with his inadequate words. 

“I made muffins. Cranberry and macadamia with some white chocolate.” Harry presented the box, confused when Louis squinted at him distrustfully rather than take the offering.

“You made them? H, you couldn’t have got home until nine. Please tell me you bought these and didn’t stay up baking till all hours?” The pleading note in Louis’ voice almost made Harry want to lie. Instead he gave a small shrug and picked at the lid of his coffee.

“Like you said, couldn’t sleep.” His words were almost too quiet to be heard over the train but Louis leaned over and planted a soft kiss behind his ear anyway. A ‘thank you’ was whispered into Harry’s skin.

“Drink up and then sleep, can’t have you missing out on beauty sleep can we?” Louis pulled back and poked Harry jokingly as he spoke. Harry’s face must have been aghast because it made Louis crack up laughing.

“You better not be implying I need beauty sleep.” He huffed, unable to control the fond look on his face or the smile that coloured the words.

“I would never!” Louis placed a hand on his chest as if scandalised at the accusation, before dissolving back into giggles a moment later.

When they had finally both stopped laughing Louis patted his shoulder, taking Harry’s cup and turning his body so Harry could curl into him. It was the most inviting offer Harry thought he could ever receive. And the look in Louis’ eye was pure adoration. 

  
Harry curled up and stopped worrying. It didn’t matter if it was too soon. It felt right, and that was what mattered for now. 


	23. Day 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya
> 
> Smut flashback today (cause how do you write smut when your story is based around morning trips on the tube??) so if you are sex averse please stop at the
> 
> \---
> 
> and then start again after the other one.
> 
> If not, enjoy the smut!
> 
> Love you all  
> Enjoy  
> Sxxx

Curls and citrus and warm boy surrounded Louis. As he first opened his bleary eyes he thought he might still be dreaming, floating in a soft bed that was not his own surrounded by a boy who he desperately hoped was his own. Harry’s green eyes stared back at him though, their faces close together, and he knew it was real, even if he still couldn’t quite believe his luck.

They’d been to see a band together the night before. One Louis worked with and Harry’s firm had just pitched for. It sounded like a conflict of interests but in the interconnected incestuous industry they worked in it really wasn’t. Louis would just give final say on the pitch to the band’s manager. 

The ride back on the tube had been fraught with sexual tension after a night of being together but not yet knowing if they could be publicly together at work, and had ended with Harry pushed against the end door in an empty tube carriage as Louis ground his hips desperately against him. Much as Louis knew they needed to have a conversation about what they were to each other and who could know, he definitely couldn’t complain about the outcome of not having had it yet. 

At Harry’s stop the other boy had physically dragged Louis from the train, cheeks flushed and eyes bright with arousal. They had fallen giggling through the barriers, unwilling or unable to let go of each other for even a moment. It made touching out their oyster cards tricky, but somehow they made it work.

Stumbling home it had felt like anything was possible. Like with his hand in Harry’s he could do anything, be anything, go anywhere. They danced in the street, never letting go of the other, kissing frequently, shouting to the night sky that they wanted each other, needed each other.

\---

By the time they stumbled in Harry’s front door Louis’ shirt was rucked up practically to his neck, and Harry’s was unbuttoned fully and hanging open over his beautiful torso as Louis mouthed at any skin he could find. 

They fell into bed, hot skin pressed against hot skin. Rough fingers on delicate thighs. Sharp teeth against rippling muscle. Soft lips on hard collar bones and hip bones and shoulder bones. Louis had wanted so much, had needed Harry inside him as soon as was humanly possible. But Harry had teased. He had slowly stripped Louis, kissing and marking and licking and biting as he went. By the time he divulged Louis of his jeans Louis had been a panting writhing mess with no semblance of self control left in him. He had broken down, begged, pleaded, for anything, anything at all, he just needed  _ more _ .

Harry’s strong hands had found his hips, flipping Louis over with ease, parting his legs and settling between them. The way he had treated Louis’ arse had been religious, Louis still couldn’t get over it now the next morning. Louis was used to men appreciating his arse, it was a fucking great arse, what he wasn’t used to was the gentle overwhelming worship Harry showed him. There were fingers kneading, teeth biting, lips sucking, tongue licking. Every touch was infused with praise, with desire. Louis felt like a saint being lorded. 

By the time Harry’s tongue reached Louis’ rim, Louis felt like he might come from a single firm breeze. When Harry placed one firm lick across his hole Louis’s back had arched so strongly that he had risen off the bed. Harry’s delighted moan vibrated across the tight muscles of his arse, making Louis groan deeply in return.

“Harry, I swear to fucking god, if you don’t stop teasing...” Louis gasped out, unable to continue with his threat as Harry’s tongue pushed inside him quickly before pulling out as he pulled away. Louis wasn’t ashamed to say he squeaked at the loss.

“You’ll what, Lou? What are you gonna do?” Harry’s voice was dark, broken, filled with unvoiced wants. 

“Just fucking do it. Please Harry, fucking please.” Louis begged, satisfied when Harry let out a small laugh before his mouth was back where it belonged.

Louis saw heaven over the next fifteen minutes, as Harry languorously and leisurely spread him open with tongue and fingers. It made him want to resolve to be a better man, so that he could spend eternity like this. Harry nipped, licked, pushed, flicked. He added lube that he magicked up from somewhere, and slowly slipped a long finger in beside his clever tongue. It didn’t take long for him to find Louis’ prostate. To gently, teasingly run the pads of two fingers over it, making Louis twitch and groan beneath him. Louis wondered if it was possible to die from being teased, from being driven to the edge with never quite enough to tip him over. 

“Harry, Haz, Harry,” he panted wetly, “Fuck please now? ‘M ready, need you.”

“Want me to fuck you Lou?” Harry’s voice was low, seductive, and yet somehow full of innocent wonder, like Louis wasn’t a sure thing after Harry had teasingly eaten him out and touched him for what felt like hours.

“If you don’t...” Again Louis’ threat was empty. There was nothing he could withhold that wouldn’t hurt him just as much as it would Harry.

“Yeah? Want me to fill you up? Want to come on my cock? Gonna come untouched for me?” Harry grabbed the hair at the back of Louis’ head, using it to turn their heads towards each other, lips locking in a filthy kiss as he finished panting out words.

Louis moaned in relief as he finally heard the blessed sound of a condom being ripped open. It felt like both an eternity and no time at all before Harry was pressing against him, pushing him open. Harry was huge, the stretch was divine. By the time he had pressed fully into Louis it felt like Louis might never breath again. Like Harry had just fucked every molecule of oxygen out of Louis with one single thrust.

“Move.” Louis gritted out. If Harry didn’t move soon Louis might actually and honestly burn up into a pile of ash and desire. He didn’t even think he was being over dramatic.

Harry moved. Dear god above Harry moved. Every thrust was perfectly timed, deep and dirty and hitting Louis where he needed it. Louis’s eyes rolled in his head as he felt his orgasm approach, fire burning his skin as his muscles tightened and coiled. His entire nervous system was lit up like the national grid, he could practically visualise the electricity zipping through him, spreading out from his prostate and his sorely neglected cock. 

“Gonna come for me? Gonna come without me even touching you, Lou?” Harry kept asking, like a prayer, like he could wish it into reality. In reality he didn’t need to wish at all. Louis was teetering, hanging over the chasm that was his orgasm for long heady seconds before he was free-falling, flying through the space below him with no parachute and no idea of what would meet him at the bottom.

He was met, it seemed, by Harry. Strong wonderful gentle Harry who had his arms wrapped around Louis like he was made of the finest cut glass and might break if Harry let go. Louis kind of agreed with him.

Harry gently pulled out, leaving Louis cold and hopeless, crying out for Harry to keep fucking him, that he wanted Harry to come in him. Harry was quickly back, his body pressed down on Louis shushing him as he whispered in Louis’ ear.

“Just need to see you baby, need to see you so much. Turn over?” Harry was helping, his hands were pushing and prodding Louis as he raised back off him, turning him and rearranging him until Harry was back, pushing back in, filling Louis with his perfect length and thickness. 

Louis was so over sensitive, every thrust causing electric shocks to rip through him over again. Like the aftershocks of a devastating earthquake. Louis had never wanted to be fucked more though, had never needed it more. 

Their eyes met. Harry’s were dark and wanton but there was a softness behind it all that Louis wanted to fall into. It spoke of Harry feeling this instant strange form of love just as deeply as Louis did. It spoke of the fact the L word wasn’t completely over the top and inappropriate. It spoke of everything Louis wanted or needed and it went straight to his cock which was quickly hardening again. Louis wasn’t a teenager anymore. He wasn’t even in his early 20’s. It had been a long time since someone had managed to fuck him through two orgasms, and while it still wasn’t certain Louis knew that if anyone could it was this beautiful angel who held himself above Louis.

“Fuck Lou. Can you come again? Baby, please. So amazing, so amazing for me. So good.” Harry breathed the words into Louis’ mouth as they kissed. Their mouths moved lazily against each other, dislodged slightly with every deep thrust Harry gave.

Harry’s hand snaked between them, grabbing Louis’ sensitive and needy cock. His own come from earlier was providing natural lube. Harry’s hand flew over him, pushing him closer and closer to the edge again,

“Babe. Gonna come, please?” Harry begged, Louis knew the boy was referring to him holding back until Louis could come again. He knew that Harry would, knew Harry wanted to feel Louis clench around him before he let go himself. That was all it took before he was shouting praise as he came again.

“Harry, so fucking good, so fucking perfect. Fuck, Harry, fuck me fuck me, come for me.” And Harry did. Every muscle in his body curled, pulling him closer to Louis as he came hard. Louis bit on Harry’s lip as he came, earning a mewl in the middle of the delicious moans Harry was making. He swallowed the noises, keeping each and every one inside himself for safe keeping.

Harry collapsed on him, and for a moment they just breathed together, holding each other, just as close as they could be.

Finally Harry was pulling out, wiping them clean before they curled together and fell into the best sleep Louis had experienced in years. 

\---

And so in the morning lying together was bliss, still curled around each other, still feeling the touch of the other on their skin, the room still smelling of sex and desire.

They showered together, and their hands never left the other’s skin. Louis left the shower smelling of Harry, citrus and boy and love. The thought of smelling of Harry, of going to work all day smelling of his boy, it filled his heart with light. It made him feel possessive and needy and wanted all at the same time. 

  
Half an hour later they sat quietly on the tube together. Their coffee was crap from the tiny shop in Blackhorse Road and their pastries were shop brought, but with his hand in Harry’s and with a knowing wink from the girl with the shoes, everything was perfect.


	24. Day 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of all smut today so I am so sorry if you can't read that. I promise the last update will be flufftastic
> 
> Enjoy, see you all tomorrow I hope for the last door opening on our advent peak into this world  
> Sxxx

“Harry?” The whispered question pushed through Harry’s consciousness, dragging him from beautiful dreams of golden skin and almonds. He grumbled, being pulled savagely from dreams of his beautiful boy and his beautiful body. the grumbling stopped when it became clear that the reason Harry was awake was said beautiful boy. Said beautiful boy waking Harry up way too early was bad, but the hand that teased and stroked over Harry’s morning wood was most definitely good.

Harry struggled, swimming up through sleep towards the light of day, towards the light that was Louis. Louis’ smile was beaming, even though the sun had barely risen and neither of them had any business being awake.

“Harry!” Louis was nothing it not persistent. His nose pressing the spot behind Harry’s ear which he thought might have a direct line to his cock. Harry couldn’t fight waking any more, turning into his boy he blearily opened his eyes again and smiled slowly.

His eyes widened when he saw that Louis was groaning and moaning with his head thrown back. Harry followed the line of this throat down his torso to his hard cock. But Louis’ hands weren’t busy there... and oh. Oh. Oh fuck. Louis had one hand reached behind him and was slowly, deliberately and very very obviously opening himself for Harry’s cock.

“So nearly ready Harry. Ready for you to fill me up. Gonna fuck me good H? Set me up for the day? Got three finger in and oh... fuck.” Louis had clearly hit his prostate if the way his body tensed like a bow was anything to go by. The pretty keening noise that escaped his throat was the cherry on top of Harry’s instant and powerful arousal. If Harry didn’t get his cock in Louis soon he would die, he was certain of it.

“Louis,” he panted, barely able to hear his own words over the obscene noises Louis was making. Both his moans and the noises his fingers made as they stretched and lubed him for Harry. “Need you so bad.”

“Mmm I know baby. Tempted to tie you up and just ride you till I come. Leave you wanting me all day, not let you have any relief.” Louis’ words were like petrol on a bonfire, driving Harry higher and higher, making him squirm and writhe and leading a hand to his cock to give himself some relief.

“No. That’s mine. It’s for me.” Louis batted Harry’s hand away indignantly, and the thing was Harry couldn’t even argue, it was one hundred percent for Louis. His erections might always be for Louis for the rest of eternity. Louis had utterly ruined him for anyone else after only two nights of sex and one of blowjobs. It was crazy.

Harry put his arms above his head, holding onto Louis’ headboard purely so that he didn’t touch himself. The look on Louis’ face though, it was art. Desire washed over him, followed by something calculating and dangerous. Harry wanted so badly his cock ached, wanted to be whatever Louis wanted him to be. Wanted them to give themselves to each other, take from each other, be everything for each other.

Harry smirked, watching Louis’ face flicker for a second as he lost his self control, before Harry saw him physically wrench it back and the shutters come down. The other man focused on looking as desirable as possible. Deliberately arching his back, making sure his biceps flexed as his fingers pushed into himself, his mouth hanging open as his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Louis.” Harry whined, shamelessly, not giving a fuck that he sounded like a five year old child who had just been denied his favourite sweet. It worked, which was gratifying. Louis’ eyes open and focused on Harry’s cock which lay hard and heavy on his stomach, pre come pooling around the head. Louis licked his lips, he actually licked his damn lips, and Harry was done, the last shred of self control he may have had vanished out of the window and he broke down and begged until Louis finally relented.

“Ok baby. Gonna ride you, yeah?” Louis was already rolling a condom over Harry, each touch like fire and ice as they ripped through Harry leaving him scoured and bare of anything but  _ Louislouislouis _ .

When Louis finally, finally sank down on Harry it was like a choir of angels had decided to fill Harry’s bedroom just to cheer him on. If this wasn’t heaven then he thought he might have to found a new religion where it was. Only he would be the only member, as no one else should ever experience their cock in Louis’ arse. No one else ever would if it was up to him.

He watched. He watched and moaned as Louis’ muscles flexed and twisted under golden skin as he raised himself up off Harry before sitting back down. The rhythm that Louis set was slow, teasing, deep and dirty. He ground circles out with each downward thrust and pulled almost entirely off with each up. It was torture, torture by teasing, and Harry thought this might be the end of him. What a way to go.

Louis’ hands were on Harry’s chest, and he used Harry’s body to leverage himself up and down, clearly seeking out his own prostate, his own pleasure. Harry keened at the sight, knowing his pleasure was secondary to whatever Louis was seeking and absolutely loving that thought. Louis was so... lost in the sensations Harry’s cock was giving him that he could clearly think of nothing but coming.

“Gonna let me touch you, Lou?” Harry gritted out, his hands still twisted in the headboard above him. Louis’ eyes flew open, taking in the sight of the man below him like a man who had been in a desert for weeks first seeing an oasis. He looked hungry, needy, like only Harry could quench him. 

“No.” The single word was shocking, curt, as Louis continued to ride Harry like a pro. Harry was shocked, had been sure Louis was on edge, sure Louis would want Harry’s large hand wrapped around his cock, pulling him over the cliff and through his orgasm.

Louis didn’t need Harry’s hand though, because seconds later his hole was fluttering around Harry’s cock and his back was arching and coiling like he was being electrocuted. The sight was more than Harry could deal with, the sounds were obscene, and the feeling was heaven and hell combined. He fell, following Louis into the chasm as they chased each other, held each other, flew through the air together.

They crash landed in a pile, sweaty limbs and hot breath combining. There were hugs, words, quiet touches that shared almost more intimacy than the actual sex had done. Harry wanted nothing more than to stay there, burning in the heat of this new found lust all day, but it wasn’t long before his alarm rung out and they ahd to uncurl to get up for work.

Twenty minutes in the shower, in which Louis had made sure Harry was particularly clean, including using his tongue to check, and they were seated at the counter in the kitchen. The bitter herbs of their tea curled around them in the air as they sat quietly, both absorbing what this was, what this meant, what it felt like to fall. 

“Morning Louis!” Niall’s voice was delighted, cackling through the quiet air with the subtlety of a brick. “Have fun this morning?”

Louis was blushing so deeply that Harry could think of nothing to do but to pull him physically from the flat and towards the tube. Towards the sanctuary where they had met and where they would always have space for just each other. He would deal with Niall later.

  
  



	25. Day 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is it.... the end. 
> 
> Happy Christmas my loves, thank you to everyone who has read along with this and to those who I know are waiting for it to be complete. It's all yours now!
> 
> I hope to visit these two to check in on them in the future, so keep your eyes peeled
> 
> Enjoy, and once again THANK YOU  
> Sxxx

Louis made a detour. Instead of getting his and Harry’s coffees from Eat 17 like usual, he got up early and went to Starbucks. The coffee may be shitter but there was something Louis needed and only Starbucks would do.

Louis had a plan. It had been hatched with Liam just like The Plan had been. Last night they had sat together and discussed Zayn and Harry and everything that was happening at work. There had been peroni and pizza and Plans. Liam had gone away with a plan too, one to tell Zayn he loved him, even though Liam worried it was too soon. Louis was very much an advocate of the fact that if Zayn was worthy of Liam’s love then he deserved to also know he was loved, because everyone should know they are loved.

Liam had been adamant about Louis’ plan too, even if this one didn’t need a capital letter or a trademark symbol. This plan was simple, but important. As Liam had said, if being loved meant Zayn deserved to know then Harry deserved honesty too. Louis might not have put the love word on the table, but it clearly hovered over him, colouring everything he thought and said about Harry. 

It had been less than three weeks since they had properly started talking. Less than four since The Plan had been enacted, and yet Louis’ entire life felt like it had changed. Harry Styles had waltzed in, pulled the rug from under Louis, and then caught Louis as he had fallen to the ground. Yes, Harry deserved the new plan.

And so Louis stood in the queue at Starbucks, eagerly awaiting explaining his unique needs to the barista. The shop smelled of burnt beans and overheated milk, but if this worked Louis thought he might have to buy shares in the firm and change his coffee allegiance once and for all. 

Ten minutes later he was on the tube. It felt so very like that day twenty five days ago when he had been so determined to talk to Harry for the first time. Like that day twenty four days ago when Harry had fallen asleep on his shoulder and his world had spun on it’s axis. Like the first time Louis had brought coffee for Harry, the butterflies in his stomach almost taking over as he had been so nervous to make a fool of himself. 

Louis felt almost as nervous now, as he checked and double checked their cups, waiting for the train to leave, to bring him closer to the boy that he hoped against hope was his. The shudder of the train startled him as it started to move. The tunnel felt a million miles long, Louis’ mind running circles, persuading himself this was all stupid and futile.

The dark thoughts must stayed behind in the tunnel though, for when the doors opened and he saw Harry beaming at him, Louis had never been more sure of anything in his life. They shared a soft kiss and a quick hug as Harry sat down, butterflies swarming in Louis’ belly at what he was about to do.

“Morning, Lou.” Harry grinned, his eyes sparkling and his dimple popping every time he looked at Louis. 

“Morning, babe. Missed you last night.” Louis knew his face was a puddle of fond, and he didn’t even try to control it. It was just about to get worse anyway.

“Cranberry and orange bran muffins.” Harry handed the box over, a shy smile on his face as always when he discussed his baking. No matter how good Harry’s food was he was forever endearingly insecure, and it made Louis’ heart beat even harder against his ribs.

“Those sound disgustingly healthy, Haz.” Louis teased just to see Harry blush, such a pretty sight. “But if anyone can make healthy tasty it will be you, love.”

Louis took a deep breath, holding tightly to both coffee cups as Harry looked quizzically at them, clearly wondering why Louis wasn’t sharing.

“H. I, umm, I...” He paused, heart beating so hard he could feel it pulsing in his stomach. “I like you a lot.” Harry’s face split open in a smile, the light that always shone from within him spilling out brighter than ever, like the light of home when you arrive back in the cold and dark. 

“I  _ like _ you a lot too, Lou.” The stress Harry put on like showed he read between the lines of what Louis was saying, his smile cheeky and knowing.

Louis ducked his head, checking the cups one last time before handing Harry’s over. He kept his eyes down, not able to watch Harry examine his cup. There was a swallowed squeak from the other man before Harry’s hand was on Louis’, squeezing hard.

“Yes, Lou. A million yeses.” Harry peppered kisses to Louis’ face, finally catching his lips at the same moment a pointed cough came from across the carriage. They split apart, Louis embarrassed at being called out on PDA, until the moment he looked across and saw kind eyes and a warm smile on the face of the girl with the shoes.

“Sorry to interrupt but you two can’t be all cute and adorable and lovey dovey over there and not tell me what’s on that damn cup.” She looked appropriately chagrined to be interrupting, but her question just made Harry smile harder.

  
“It says ‘boyfriends?’”

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on tumblr where I am conscious--ramblings, I love to chat and especially about a project like this where I will need motivation to write daily!
> 
> Kudos and comments are the best thing xx

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] Torn On The Platform](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6203497) by [frecklebombfic (frecklebomb)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frecklebomb/pseuds/frecklebombfic)




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